


Under the Weather

by storywriter55



Series: Milestones [4]
Category: White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Family, Friendship, Gen, Just a couple of married men talking shit, Post Cancer, Road Trip, Trials, childhood illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 72,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29544159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storywriter55/pseuds/storywriter55
Summary: Peter and Neal are called out of town, leaving the women in their lives to fend for themselves in less than ideal circumstances.Part of the Milestones series (23 months)
Relationships: Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey/Sara Ellis, Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Series: Milestones [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/80614
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

Neal turned over in bed, his arms spontaneously reaching out for his wife’s warm body as he sighed in contentment. He nuzzled closer, instinctively burrowing his face in what used to be her luxuriously soft red hair only to feel the smooth, yet unyielding, wool cap tickle his nose. Even after six months, he still reacted with surprise at the absence of the pillowy curls and he woke, startled, his eyes coming to rest on Sara’s sleeping form in the early morning light. Her previously soft, bouncy curls were missing in action and had been for months now and yet, it was still jarring for Neal every single time he snuggled up against her in the darkness of night.

Sara’s hair had begun to fall out in mid-September, first in single strands, then in large clumps, and the meagre locks which had somehow managed to survive the exodus had been unceremoniously shaved off in early October only to be replaced by wigs and warm, woolly caps.

Following her last chemotherapy treatment in early December, Sara had been thrilled to discover an eyelash sprouting right around Christmas time - a harbinger of the new life that was returning to her body and, shortly after New Years, new, wispy fine hair had begun to appear on her scalp, at first, soft and feathery although it had quickly turned bristly with unexpectedly dark and tight curls. She still wore a wig during her waking hours, unwilling to parade around in the less than flattering hairstyle - which Neal had heard her curse on more than one occasion. At home, she still favoured the woolen caps, especially in these last few days of February, with the weather consistently dipping below zero.

Neal had noticed several other lingering after effects of the gruelling treatments Sara had endured for the better part of four months. Even now, weeks after it was all over and done with, she still had limited stamina and she hadn't yet gained back the weight she’d lost during the time her body had been under attack from the toxic chemo drugs. But more notably, she hadn't regained her usual vibrancy and joie de vivre, often making it through the day by the skin of her teeth and Neal knew it would be awhile before he got his wife back the way she was before - if ever.

Dr. Franklin, Sara’s oncologist, had warned that it could take up to a year for her to fully recover from the brutal attack on her body and Neal had refrained from commenting on the fact that she was far from her old self, opting instead to encourage her every time she made small gains - like staying up past 9:30 or surviving a full day at her job which she’d recently returned to. She was still working up to a full time schedule and had gradually inched up to three days a week and that, in and of itself, was taking everything out of her, considering Sara had never adhered to a regular workweek to begin with. Neal worried she might be pushing it; it was disheartening to watch her drag herself home after a day at Sterling Bosch only to flake out on the couch and nap for a full hour before dinner and follow that up with another ten or so hours when her head finally hit the pillow.

Following her cancer diagnosis, Neal had taken over most of the responsibilities on the home front, often burning the candle at both ends in an effort to keep her from overexerting herself. She still had a long way to go and they were both acutely aware that relapses, which sadly happened much too often in the case of ovarian cancer, most often occurred within a year of the original diagnosis. They’d been meticulous about attending her follow-up appointments and having regular pelvic CT scans, holding their breath each time they were summoned to Dr. Franklin’s office for results. So far, so good but the couple continued to live with the sword of Damocles hanging over their heads, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Sara startled in the bed next to her husband and she began to moan in her sleep, her head moving back and forth on her pillow as she mumbled.

‘No... no... no!’ she repeated, her voice growing louder.

‘Sara?’ Neal said, his voice still thick with sleep.

The nightmares were a relatively recent development but they’d been unrelenting over the past couple of weeks and Neal shook her gently, trying to rise her from her fitful sleep.

‘Sara, baby wake up. You’re dreaming’ he insisted as her moans grew louder.

She let out a gasp, finally reacting to his pleading voice as her eyes drifted open and she slowly transitioned from deep sleep to semi-wakefulness.

‘What?’ she mumbled, confused, as she sat up in bed and looked around their bedroom.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay. You were just dreaming’ he whispered reassuringly, his hand running down her back in an attempt to ground her to reality.

‘Hey, hey, look at me’ he murmured as she let herself fall back onto the bed and settled against his chest.

The recurring dreams had appeared shortly after their friend Janet had passed away. The woman had been a good friend to Sara during her cancer journey and had finally succumbed on her second go-around with the devastating disease, passing away with just days to go till Christmas. 

‘Janet again?’ Neal asked softly.

Sara’s breathing began to slow down as she connected with reality. ‘It was so real this time. She was calling out to me...’

He ran his hand up and down Sara’s arm as he cradled her, urging her back to the here and now. ‘It’s just a dream, honey. You’re fine, you’re safe.’

‘That’s just it’ she murmured, her voice shaky. ‘I don’t understand why I’m still here... and she’s not.’

Sara’s seemingly strange musings had begun shortly after her treatments had ended and she’d been given the all clear. She was a smart, level-headed woman and Neal had been curious as to why she’d been entertaining such irrational thoughts of guilt. He’d researched the phenomenon, surprised to read about something called ‘survivor’s guilt’ which Sara seemed to be suffering from, following the death of her beloved chemo friend. He’d even discussed it with Dr. Franklin as he’d begun to notice the increasingly frequent nightmares Sara was having as well as the feelings of culpability she’d shared with him following Janet’s passing.

He’d been surprised to discover that survivor’s guilt was all too common in such situations as some cancer patients succumbed to the disease while others survived and eventually went into remission.

‘Honey we’ve talked about this. Janet passing away and you getting better are two totally unrelated things. You need to let this go’ he began patiently, the same old refrain he’d uttered several times before.

‘Why me? Why am I still here? Maybe if...’ Sara began, unable to clearly articulate what she was feeling.

‘Babe, you’re not doing yourself any good thinking like that’ Neal said, his voice tentative. He hesitated for an instant before continuing. ‘Do you think... maybe it would help if you talked to someone about how you’re feeling?’

He’d made the suggestion once before only to have her dismiss it out of hand. But this was becoming a recurring theme and maybe it was time for him to push back a little harder.

‘No!’ she said adamantly. It was bad enough she was having these unexplainable feelings of guilt, she wasn't about to spend time and money navel gazing about it.

‘I just... well, I hate to see you like this...’ Neal added.

His last comment was received with an icy silence and he brought his lips to her forehead, kissing her softly.

‘All right, all right’ he finally relented. ‘Why don't you try to get some sleep? Hope will be up in another hour.’

He felt Sara’s body tensing against his and he knew full well, she wouldn't be falling back to sleep before morning. The dreams were always disturbing and he knew she worried about drifting off again for fear of having another one.

He thought of the days and weeks ahead. Sara would be increasing her work schedule to four days a week in early March, stretching her even more and he hoped she wasn't pushing too hard, too fast. On top of that, they were expecting the results from her latest CT scan by week’s end, always a more stressful time for both of them.

Neal gazed down at his wife's face, noticing her eyes narrowing with worry and his lips moved to kiss her forehead once more, his hand gently tracing the outline of the warm, wooly cap.

‘It’s okay, baby. You’re okay’ he repeated as her breathing finally evened out.

WCWCWC

‘You look like you slept in those clothes’ Peter commented as Neal took a seat across from him in a booth at their regular weekend haunt.

‘Good morning to you too’ Neal shot back sarcastically.

‘Sorry... did I hit a nerve?’ Peter asked, trying to sound a little more empathetic.

‘No, _I’m_ sorry. I didn't get much sleep. Sara’s still having those nightmares... about our friend, Janet.’

Peter frowned.

‘It’s called ‘survivor’s guilt’ Neal continued. ‘It happens sometimes when you’re lucky enough to survive something that someone else doesn’t. You know... a traumatic event like... a natural disaster or an accident. Dr. Franklin says it happens with cancer survivors... patients wonder why they’ve survived when the person next to them didn’t.’

‘But what does one have to do with the other? Sara getting better isn't the reason her friend Janet died’ Peter asked.

Neal raised his eyebrows in response. ‘I didn't say it was logical, Peter’ he replied with a shrug. ‘But it’s real for Sara and apparently, it happens a fair bit.’

Peter listened intently. The past eight months since Sara’s cancer diagnosis had been rough on the Caffreys and Peter and Elizabeth had been there all along, supporting the couple, helping out with their goddaughter whenever possible, anything they could do to make things easier for them in their time of need. It appeared the fallout from the painful experience extended well past the actual surgery and chemotherapy treatments.

‘She hasn't said so but I know she’s worried about our follow-up appointment with Dr. Franklin on Friday. We’ll get the results of the scan she had last week’ Neal added, staring into his coffee cup.

‘But you don’t think there’s anything wrong, do you?’ Peter asked, concerned.

Neal shrugged. ‘There’s a forty percent chance of relapse with the type of cancer Sara had and when there’s a recurrence, it usually happens in the first year after the treatments end...’

Peter remained silent as he watched the deep creases appearing on Neal’s forehead. Apparently, Sara wasn't the only one concerned about the upcoming appointment.

Neal seemed to snap out of it and he plastered a smile on his face as he looked up at his best friend. ‘But it’s going to be fine, I’m sure.’

Peter waited a moment before speaking. He knew Neal wasn't going to like what he had to say.

‘Well, I hate to add to what you’ve already got on your plate but I just got this from the district attorney’s office in Lansing, Michigan’ Peter said as he pulled out a few sheets of paper stapled together. ‘You should be getting one too, any day now.’

Neal struggled to read what was written on the piece of paper, noting the letterhead from the City of Lansing.

‘What is it?’ he asked, giving up on trying to read the official looking document upside down.

‘Remember Ryan Wilkes?’ Peter asked as Neal frowned.

‘He’s kind of hard to forget’ Neal commented as he thought back to the man he’d once had an unholy alliance with.

‘Well, he was arrested last year in connection with a murder following a kidnapping gone bad. His trial starts in Lansing next week’ Peter explained.

Neal continued to frown, unsure what any of that had to do with him - or Peter, for that matter. He brought his hands up in question and Peter raised his eyebrows in response. Neal wasn't going to like this, of that he was sure.

‘We’ve both been subpoenaed to testify at his trial’ he finally said.

‘Testify?’ Neal repeated. ‘Why?’

‘The prosecutor says you and I have unique insight into his character following the Lindsay Gless kidnapping’ Peter answered. ‘Kimberly Rice has been subpoenaed too.’

Neal thought back to the case in question, going back several years. Following the kidnapping of the young girl, Neal had been abducted by his ex-associate to act as front man in his diabolical plot to obtain loaded credit cards, the young woman being used as leverage to ensure Neal’s cooperation. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been his first run-in with the felon. Neal had been well acquainted with Wilkes in his younger days and had collaborated on a couple of capers only to walk away when he’d witnessed the man’s propensity for violence. Neal had broken ties with him and had never looked back - well, not until that night he’d been abducted at a nightclub where he’d been once again lured into Wilkes’ web of deceit.

The man was scum and the Bureau had gotten him on kidnapping charges but he’d walked away after a couple of years in the slammer and apparently had continued with his wicked ways, landing him on trial for murder this time.

‘So, what? We don't have a choice?’ Neal asked rhetorically.

‘The DA says you know his MO better than anyone else. They’ve got circumstantial evidence but our testimony - well yours, really - is at the centre of the prosecution’s case’ Peter explained.

Neal thought ahead to the practicalities of having to leave town, even for a couple of days. Sara was already struggling as it was; being left on her own to tend to Hope would likely be more than she could handle.

‘So, how long would we be gone?’ he asked.

Peter shrugged. ‘You know how this works, Neal. We go up there and they prep us and then, we wait to be called in to testify. I can work hard to get our testimony moved up but the prosecution has complete latitude on how it will present its case.’

‘This is not a good time, Peter. Sara’s still struggling. I don’t want to leave her on her own. She’s still settling in at work... and then, there’s Hope...’ Neal complained.

‘I can see if El can help out’ Peter mused. ‘I know she has a big event coming up but I’m sure she’ll help as much as she can.’

Neal shook his head. ‘So you think I’ll get one of these?’ he asked, pointing to the subpoena.

‘Count on it. I’m surprised they haven’t contacted you yet.’

‘I don’t suppose hiding out for the next few days and avoiding strangers carrying briefcases would be ideal in this type of situation’ Neal said, only half-joking.

Peter scoffed. ‘Afraid not.’

‘So, when does the trial start?’ Neal asked, resigned to the fact Peter and he would be taking a road trip.

‘Week after next’ Peter replied. ‘I’m hoping the Bureau will spring to fly us out...’ he began.

‘You’re kidding!’ Neal said, cutting him off. ‘Peter, we are not driving eleven hours to Lansing in early March!’

Peter sighed. ‘I’ll do my best, Neal. But you know as well as I do that we’re dealing with budget cuts.’

Neal glared back at his best friend and shook his head. Michigan in early March... lovely!

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Peter sat at his dining room table, sipping coffee and going through case files while his wife buzzed around the room, obviously on some mission. Her document bag lay on the table, partially open, stuffed full of papers, her laptop, her phone and what looked to be a sample of something, tidily stored in a blue _Noritake_ box.

She flew by him and he watched with interest as she opened and immediately slammed shut the top drawer of the desk tucked away in the corner of the kitchen, sighing dramatically as she continued on her search.

‘Honey?’ Peter asked, in desperation. ‘Can I help you find something?’

‘It’s my _damn_ notebook’ she cursed. ‘I can't find it anywhere and I’m meeting my client in twenty minutes.’

‘Your notebook?’ Peter repeated. ‘The one with the picture of an English garden on it?’

El rolled her eyes. She only had _one_ notebook and he’d seen it lying around dozens of times. It was where she wrote absolutely everything she needed to know about her events, from the client’s name and contact information, to the details of the venue, the choice of caterer, down to the most minute details practically extending to the client’s shoe size and eye colour.

‘Yes Peter! The one with the English garden on it’ she responded with a tone of impatience. ‘It’s the only notebook I have.’

Peter frowned. She only called him by his name when she was flustered, which she definitely was - or when she was angry with him, which now seemed up for debate despite the fact he’d done nothing more than try to help her in her quest to find her missing notebook.

‘Honey, you were making notes in bed last night’ he reminded her, taking the high road.

She rolled her eyes as it came back to her; of course, she’d left it on the bedside table. Peter watched as she took off running up the stairs and he momentarily returned to his case files.

_Women!_ he thought, although he knew better than to even mutter the complaint under his breath when his wife was in the middle of a full-on meltdown.

Within seconds, Elizabeth Burke reappeared clutching the precious notebook against her chest and throwing it into the open bag with a flourish as she grabbed her coat and buttoned up to face the cold morning. She seemed to come to her senses and she stopped for a moment, leaning down to capture her husband’s attention, her bright blue eyes sparkling and a forced smile on her lips.

‘I’m sorry honey’ she said as she placed a kiss on his lips. ‘This event is driving me nuts. Just a couple more weeks and I promise... I’ll be human again.’

Peter smiled sweetly. He was staying well away from anything that might further antagonize his wife in her present state.

‘Have a good day, hon’ he answered as he watched her collect her things in one fell swoop and run for the door just as a faint knock was heard on the other side. Elizabeth was in full stride and she practically knocked Neal over before noticing the precious cargo he was carrying in his arms.

‘Sorry...’ she muttered as she ran past him. ‘Good morning sweetheart’ she added as she brushed her lips against her goddaughter’s cheek, barely slowing down before disappearing out the door.

‘And here I thought _I_ was the one married to a tornado in heels’ Neal commented as he made it all the way inside and gingerly deposited his daughter on the floor.

Hope immediately ran towards Satchmo who’d been hiding under the table, trying desperately to stay out of his humans’ way - something he’d learned to do when things got crazy.

‘Satchmo!’ she shrieked as Peter stood there, arms wide open to welcome her to Casa Burke.

He watched in disappointment as she dove under the table, totally ignoring him.

‘Great!’ he mumbled. ‘Passed up for the dog - again.’

‘Sweet pea, come here’ Neal called out. ‘At least, take your coat off before you throw yourself at Satchmo.’

Hope reluctantly crawled back out from underneath the table and ran towards her dad who was busy taking off his coat and hanging it on a hook by the front door.

‘And look at Uncle Peter’ he added as he removed her coat. ‘He wants a hug too.’

‘Uccle Peeeter!’ she yelled in the same exact tone she’d used to greet the dog.

This time she ran straight into her godfather’s arms and he lifted her off the ground, tickling her as she giggled irrepressibly.

‘I missed you!’ Peter said as the child finally calmed down and gave him a huge hug. ‘And I’ve got something special for you...’ he crooned as he whisked her towards the kitchen.

Neal rolled his eyes as his best friend carried Hope away. No matter how many times he and Sara asked him to refrain, Peter was always spoiling her - usually with some snack food they preferred their daughter not consume.

‘No junk!’ Neal warned although Peter chose to totally ignore him and carried on, opening a cupboard door and taking out a familiar looking cereal box with the face of a grinning naval captain sporting a huge grey moustache.

‘You know Peter, we _do_ feed her at home’ Neal said, taking a spot at the table, across from where his partner had been seated.

‘But she _likes_ this cereal, don’t you Hope?’ Peter said in a baby voice as Hope shouted with glee.

‘Capan Crunshhh!’

‘That’s right, peanut, Captain Crunch, your favourite!’ Peter said as he handed her a plastic cup brimming with the sugary cereal.

‘Peter!’ Neal called out, hands up in the air in quiet desperation. ‘Hope, come here, sweetie.’

Hope wriggled out of her godfather’s arms, carefully balancing the overflowing plastic cup and frowning as her dad took it from her hands and dumped half its contents onto the table, returning it to his daughter’s tiny hands.

‘And make these last’ he admonished, trying his best to sound stern. ‘You’re _not_ getting any more!’

Hope gave a facsimile of a frown and immediately disappeared under the table where she proceeded to sit on her daddy’s stocking feet as she settled next to Satchmo with a loud giggle.

Peter returned with a cup of coffee for Neal, placing it on the table as he watched his best friend throw back a few bites of the cereal he'd just confiscated from his daughter.

‘Pot...meet kettle’ Peter said with a glare as he sat down and grabbed for a thick file in the pile that sat there.

‘Here’s the file on Wilkes’ he said as he handed it over to Neal to scrutinize.

Although the case, including the unpleasant memory of being tasered - twice - was as fresh in Neal’s mind as if it had happened yesterday, it was important to refresh their recollections of every single aspect of what had transpired before heading out to Michigan to testify.

Peter watched Neal peruse the file, nodding as the details came into focus and frowning as he likely came upon some best forgotten aspects of the case, likely the fact that he’d been set up by the very ambitious Kimberly Rice. The case had been messy but it had allowed Neal to make peace with the man who ran the company whose bonds he’d been convicted of forging. Helping the man get his daughter back had been cathartic in a sense and it had served to bring about some level of redemption for Neal’s past misdeeds.

Peter’s mind wandered as he thought of having to leave home for the duration of the trial or at least the presentation of the prosecution’s case. He knew El would be less than thrilled with him going out of town.

‘So, when do we tell them?’ Peter asked nervously.

For two big, normally fearless guys, whenever it came time to delivering unpleasant news to their wives, they seemed to instantly morph into quivering bowls of jelly.

Neal suddenly flashed back to the Selena Thomas case and how nervous the great Peter Burke had been about telling his wife he’d inadvertently become engaged to the woman - not that that kind of news didn't shake a person up somewhat. El had been livid just as she’d been the time he’d gone above and beyond the call of duty and worked his magic hands on Melissa Calloway’s sore back.

There was always safety in numbers, as Neal well knew. Telling their wives together, just as they’d done during their sting on Landon Shepard, was definitely their best option.

‘Why don't you guys come over for dinner tonight’ Neal suggested. ‘We can tell them together. I can make chocolate cheesecake, that always puts them in a good mood.’

That seemed to suit Peter just fine. El hated it when he went out of town for any reason and this little trip to Lansing could end up lasting for days if the case got tied up for any reason. He could only imagine how Neal might be feeling, considering Sara was still on the mend and would have to do all the parenting on her own.

‘How do you think Sara will react?’ Peter asked.

‘She’ll be fine - outwardly, at least. She won’t want me to worry about her...’

‘Which you will...’ Peter countered as Neal shrugged.

‘Wouldn’t you, if you were me?’

Peter sighed. ‘I’m sorry, buddy. I know the timing’s not great on this.’

‘Well, if it’ll put this scumbag away for good, it’ll be worth it. Sara would be the first to agree. Any news on the travel details.’

Peter let out a loud sigh and Neal immediately reacted.

‘You’re kidding! We have to _drive_ up?’

‘You know how tight the travel budget is...’ Peter said, just as frustrated as his partner was.

‘But it’s not that much more expensive to fly. I don’t get it’ Neal said as Hope suddenly reappeared from underneath the table and climbed nimbly onto his lap.

‘I know but it’s... different budget envelopes. There’s no more travel money for this year... but we have plenty in the operating portion of the budget to cover mileage by car.’

‘Poppa’ Hope interrupted, taking his face between her two small hands and forcing him to look at her.

‘What is it, sweet pea?’ Neal answered, still frowning at Peter.

‘Pipi’ she whispered demurely in his ear.

‘Oh...’ Neal uttered, immediately getting to his feet. Using the toilet was still relatively new for Hope and the time that elapsed between her realizing she needed to go and the actual deed was sadly all too brief - add to that, the fact that they had to make it all the way upstairs before it was too late.

Peter watched Neal take off in a flash with Hope in his arms and he chuckled, wishing his phone had been poised to capture the moment.

Neal Caffrey running to make it to the bathroom on time: priceless!

WCWCWC

‘Apparently, you guys are coming over for dinner tonight’ Sara said into the phone from her office at Sterling Bosch.

‘Oh yeah?’ Elizabeth replied from her own desk at Burke Premiere Events. ‘That’s... unexpected. Not that I’m complaining about Neal making dinner for us, it’s just...’

‘Yeah, well that’s what I thought too. They probably want to tell us something and you know how they get...’ Sara said.

‘I really don't know why they act this way whenever they want to tell us something. You’d think we’re a couple of... hormonally fuelled whack jobs’ Elizabeth mused, shaking her head in disbelief.

‘Well, El... we do sometimes... overreact’ Sara admitted as she continued glancing at her e-mails.

Elizabeth laughed softly. It was true that the two of them had a tendency to react spontaneously, leaving their husbands at odds whenever they needed to tell them something they knew darn well the two women wouldn't like.

‘I wonder what it is this time’ El said.

‘Well, I think it might have something to do with the envelope that was delivered for Neal yesterday. It looked very official’ Sara offered.

‘Oh, yeah?’ Elizabeth replied. She loved a good mystery. ‘What kind of envelope?’

‘I don’t know...’ Sara said, suddenly a paragon of virtue. ‘It was Neal’s not mine...’

She could actually hear her best friend roll her eyes from across town.

‘What you mean is you couldn't get a good look - even when you tried...’ Elizabeth corrected. She knew Sara Ellis all too well.

Sara blubbered before reluctantly admitting to having snooped. ‘I looked around for it when he was busy in the bathroom but... he must have hidden it somewhere.’

‘They’re not working on a case together right now, are they?’ El asked.

‘Not that I know of’ Sara answered. ‘Oh well, let’s watch them sweat and see what’s up. I bet they do it over dessert.’

‘And I’ll bet you anything Neal will make something chocolatey. He knows we both love anything with chocolate and he’ll try to get us in a good mood’ Elizabeth said, laughing.

Sara reflected for a moment, unsure if she wanted to take that bet. Elizabeth was probably right but, in the spirit of good clean fun, she decided to take her best friend up on it.

‘Okay, you’re on. If he makes something chocolate, I’ll spring for lunch next week’ she finally said.

‘Deal’ Elizabeth said gleefully. ‘You’re going down, girl!’

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Sara stirred as she heard soft laughter in the distance, including the sound of her daughter’s irrepressible - and resounding - giggles.

‘Honey...’ she heard Neal whisper as the bed dipped. ‘Peter and El are here.’

‘Mmmph’ Sara mumbled as her eyes flew open to find Neal’s handsome face, smiling down at her as he sat perched on the edge of the bed.

His eyes sparkled as they always did and she matched his brilliant smile with one of her own. She wasn't quite certain how she’d managed to win the lottery in the husband department but she sure as hell had and she was grateful for that fact every single day.

‘Hey’ she murmured, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him down for a nice leisurely kiss.

‘Mmmmm’ Neal moaned as he reluctantly pulled away. ‘As much as I would love to crawl in there with you, I think Peter and Elizabeth might notice if we don’t come back downstairs.’

Sara grinned, suddenly aware that she’d fallen asleep without anything on her head, just that horribly unbecoming head of hair she despised and yet, Neal was gazing down at her adoringly, as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world. She touched her head self-consciously and sat up, getting her bearings.

Almost as if reading her mind, Neal ran his hand lovingly over the bristly curls, giving them a gentle tug.

‘It’s really growing in nicely’ he commented, watching her smile fade. ‘Why don’t you forget about the wig for tonight, I know how itchy it gets. Just go natural...’

Sara frowned at his suggestion. ‘I can’t let people see me like this’ she murmured as she slid past him, making her way to the makeup table tucked away in the corner of the room and taking a seat in front of the mirror.

She stared back at her refection and felt a lump in her throat. She just wanted her life back and that included the way she _used_ to look a few short months before - including her beloved soft, reddish curls. More than anything, she hoped the texture of her hair would return to normal before long; everybody said it would eventually but it couldn't come fast enough for her. She surveyed her pale looking skin. Even _she_ had to admit she needed to put on a few pounds. Suddenly, Neal was standing behind her, hands on her shoulders and lips on her neck.

‘Honey, you’re beautiful’ he murmured with fervour. ‘Hair is just... hair. It doesn't define who you are.’

‘That’s easy for you to say’ she responded as she grabbed for the reddish wig which was perched on the nearby stand. She proceeded to place it on her head and adjust it just like she’d done dozens of times over the past few months.

‘What’s that I smell?’ she asked, moving away from the still painful subject.

Neal gave up. It seemed that, no matter how many times he tried, it Sara Ellis’ stubborn pride always got in the way. Not for the first time, he wished she could see what _he_ saw every time he looked at her: a beautiful, incredibly strong woman, the woman he’d fallen in love with and an amazing mother to their gorgeous daughter.

‘Pasta’ he answered, giving in to her poorly disguised attempt at deflection. ‘Alfredo with shrimp... and caesar salad.’

‘Mmm’ she murmured as she touched up her lipstick and turned to face him.

He'd begun to walk away, heading out their bedroom door and Sara stood, grabbing for his arm and forcing him to look back at her.

‘Caffrey... I do appreciate it, you know’ she said mysteriously as he frowned.

‘You still don’t get it, do you Repo?’ he said sadly, pulling her in for a hug. ‘You’ll always be the most beautiful girl in the world to me, no matter what. Nothing’s changed and nothing ever will...’

Her eyes became watery and she gave him a weak smile as Hope’s loud laughter echoed through the house.

‘Come on’ Neal said as he broke the embrace and took her hand. ‘Peter and El are going to wonder what we’re up to.’

WCWCWC

‘That was amazing, as usual’ Elizabeth said as she handed her empty plate to Neal.

‘Glad you liked it’ he replied, his eyes moving to give Peter a knowing look. ‘I hope you two saved room for dessert.’

This time, there was a brief exchange of glances between the two women as Hope shouted gleefully from her booster seat at the table. ‘Cake!’

‘That’s right, sweet pea’ Neal said, as casually as he could muster. ‘Hope and I made cake for dessert.’

‘That sounds great!’ Peter enthused as he mentally rehearsed what they needed to tell the women about their upcoming trip to Michigan.

Neal returned with the chocolate cheesecake and deposited the plate in the middle of the table, just out of his daughter’s reach. Past experience had taught him that she wouldn't hesitate to stick her hand right in the middle of a freshly baked cake or pie and help herself to a fistful. Right on cue, Hope reached out and coming up short, she whined, looking up at Peter who was seated to her left.

‘Cake!’ she repeated.

‘Just a minute, honey. Uncle Peter will cut you a piece’ he said as he reached for a plate.

‘Neal, is that _chocolate_ cheesecake?’ El said loudly, heavy accent on the word ‘chocolate’. The women laughed heartily as Neal and Peter stared at each other, totally clueless.

‘Do you ladies want to let us in on the joke?’ Neal asked as he began carving up pieces of cake for everyone.

‘No joke...’ Sara said with a playful smile.

‘It’s just that... well, you guys are so predictable’ Elizabeth added as she gratefully took the plate Neal was handing her.

‘You’ve obviously got something on your minds’ Sara added, placing a small piece of the delicious dessert in front of her daughter and handing her a spoon.

Peter let out a loud sigh and Neal chuckled to himself. Either they’d grown terrible at keeping secrets from their wives or the women had finally figured out what he’d always thought was a well disguised tell on his part.

‘Every time you have something to tell us that you think we’re not going to like, you try to butter us up with chocolate’ El said as she took a bite and hummed.

Neal rolled his eyes in frustration. ‘Like we never do anything nice for you’ he attempted, knowing full well they were busted.

The women stared back in silence, waiting for a straight answer

‘Fine...’ Peter said, caving in to the uneasy silence. ‘The fact is... Neal and I have been summoned to appear in court regarding an old case of ours.’

The women waited; there had to be more to the story than that.

‘... and it’s out of town’ Neal blurted out, relieved to finally have everything out in the open.

‘Where?’ Sara asked, lines forming on her forehead.

Neal’s hand was suddenly on hers in an attempt to reassure her. ‘Lansing... Michigan’ he confessed as she gave him a forced smile.

El looked over at Peter. ‘So when is this happening? And... how long do you think you’ll be gone?’

‘See, that’s the thing, honey. We’re not sure. The trial starts next week and the DA’s office needs to brief us on the case first. Then, we kind of have to wait around until we’re called in to testify. Could be a couple of days... maybe even a week’ Peter said.

‘And...’ Neal added with a sharp look of rebuke towards his partner. ‘We have to _drive_ up so that’ll take an extra couple of days.’

Sara recovered quickly; she didn't want Neal worrying about her when he had no choice in the matter. ‘It’s okay. We’ll manage, right El?’

Elizabeth picked up on Sara’s false bravado. Normally, the insurance investigator could deal with anything life threw her way but El knew all too well that Sara wasn't functioning on all cylinders at the moment.

‘Of course we will’ she added stoically.

Peter being out of town was a mere inconvenience for her, nothing more. It was just annoying because the house was all too quiet with him away and she always had trouble sleeping alone in their bed. But Sara had an awful lot on her plate at the moment and she would no doubt find it difficult to fulfill her work obligations _and_ take care of Hope at the same time. Elizabeth glanced at Neal, seeing the worry in his eyes.

‘We’ll look out for each other, won’t we?’ she said to Sara who gave a brave smile in response.

‘Of course we will’ Sara answered as Neal looked on in admiration.

Sara Ellis was no wuss. She’d never in her life needed a man to take care of her but this was not business as usual and her physical limitations, albeit temporary, were all too real. She couldn't get through the day without several short naps, including those he knew she was sneaking in at lunchtime, behind the closed doors of her office.

He shrugged, unsure what else he could say. Getting Ryan Wilkes back behind bars was a priority and he had to do his part to ensure that the scumbag didn't walk away scot free.

Sara’s hand was suddenly on his cheek and he turned to see the look of determination in her eyes.

‘I’ve got this Caffrey’ she said, steely eyed. ‘Don’t worry!’

WCWCWC

Returning to the cancer clinic at Sloan Kettering was always a bit of a downer. It was a constant reminder that, although the worst was behind them, the end of Sara’s cancer adventure had yet to be written and that she would need follow up appointments for years to come.

On Friday morning, she and Neal sat, surrounded by dozens of other patients on the magical mystery ride known as cancer treatment as they waited for their appointment with Dr. Franklin. There wasn't much to say. They’d been trying to reassure each other for days even though neither one of them was privy to the results of her latest pelvic CT scan, the gold standard for monitoring what was going on inside Sara’s ravaged body. So far, she’d had two scans, both normal and had been declared ‘cancer free’ - the best words either one of them had ever heard.

And yet, the roller coaster ride continued.

Within moments, they were seated in a small examination room, waiting for Sara’s oncologist to make an appearance - which he did, right on time.

‘Sara, Neal!’ Dr. Franklin called out in greeting with his all too familiar booming voice. ‘Nice to see you again.’

The couple nodded, a look of apprehension visible on their faces. On both previous follow-up visits, he had immediately put them out of their misery by giving them the good news the moment he'd sat down across from them. This time, he took a seat and glanced down at the test results, a look of concern visible on his face.

‘I’ve got the results of your latest scan here... February 22nd...’ he announced as his eyes remained glued to the file in his hands.

His eyes came up to meet theirs as he continued. ‘Your remaining ovary continues to looks good, Sara - nice and clean’ he reported hesitantly. ‘However, I notice that a couple of your lymph nodes are swollen.’

Neal’s face grew serious and he squeezed Sara’s hand, waiting for more of an explanation.

‘Remember, we talked about the role of lymph nodes in fighting infection. When you get any type of infection, your lymph glands may become enlarged as they fight whatever it is that’s trying to invade your body. They’re kind of like little soldiers that keep infection from taking root and they swell up temporarily to help ward off an imminent attack.’

‘Does that mean that the cancer’s back?’ Sara asked spontaneously.

‘No, no. Not necessarily. Your body could be fighting a cold or any other mild attack on your immune system but...’

Neal leaned forward, almost springing out of his seat. ‘But if the cancer were to come back... would this be one of the first signs?’ he asked, reading between the lines.

‘If Sara’s cancer were to recur, we would first see her body fighting to keep it at bay’ Dr. Franklin admitted. ‘But the fact that some of your lymph nodes are enlarged does not necessarily mean your cancer has returned.’

‘But how do we know?’ Sara asked.

‘We don’t... not for certain. Because of your history, we need to monitor the situation very closely. But it could be nothing and if that’s the case, the lymph glands will do their job and then simply return to normal size without any intervention on our part...’ he explained.

‘So we just wait?’ Neal asked, his voice a little harsher than he’d meant.

‘Look, I have a colleague who specializes in the role of the immune system on cancer recurrence’ Dr. Franklin said. ‘My suggestion is that we get his opinion on your situation.’

‘What do you mean, his opinion?’ Sara asked. ‘I thought you said there was nothing we could do.’

‘No, I said that doing nothing is an option’ he corrected, his voice calm.

‘What would be another option?’ Neal asked.

‘Well, if you wanted to play it safe, we could put Sara through another course of chemotherapy’ he began as he watched their faces grow serious. ‘But I’m not at all convinced we need to go that route... not yet, anyway.’

Sara turned to look at Neal; this was not the news they’d been hoping for.

‘If you need one hundred percent reassurance that you’re safe, we could do another round but I believe it’s premature to go that route... at least until you see Dr. Patel, the immunologist I mentioned.’

Neal tried to read Sara’s mind as he stared into her worried eyes.

Dr. Franklin continued. ‘Why don’t you give it some thought’ he suggested. ‘I’ll set something up with Dr. Patel’s office as soon as possible... I think that should be your first step.’

He could see Sara’s mind was spinning in a hundred different directions.

‘I want to remind you that there are a dozen other possible reasons why you have swollen lymph nodes’ he said as he looked from Neal to Sara. ‘We could run a test on Neal or on me for that matter and find that some of _our_ lymph nodes are swollen as well - it’s part of the immune system... it’s just that in your case, we have to monitor it very carefully, to make sure we’re not dealing with a recurrence of your cancer.’

Sara nodded and swallowed, trying to keep her emotions in check. In some ways, this was worse than the original diagnosis. Having cancer and fighting it successfully once was a victory but everyone knew that if it returned so soon after treatment ended, it was a bad sign. A second battle would be even tougher and she really wondered if she had it in her to keep fighting.

‘Okay’ she said, her voice soft. ‘Can you set up the appointment?’

Dr. Franklin took a few notes and leaned over, putting his hand over Sara’s. ‘This is not something to take lightly but it’s not necessarily a bad sign. You have to remain optimistic. Do you think you can do that for me?’ he asked kindly.

Sara gave him a small nod, fighting off tears as Neal watched helplessly.

WCWCWC

Despite Hope’s usual attempts at being a buffoon, Friday night’s dinner was particularly quiet in the Caffrey household as both Neal and Sara came to terms with what they’d learned earlier in the day. Sara looked even more pale than usual and she poked aimlessly at her food as Neal tried to engage her in conversation.

He offered to give Hope a bath and Sara settled in at the kitchen table to research this new, totally unexpected turn of events. But her eyes grew weary and by the time Hope had been tucked in for the night, she headed upstairs to have a nice warm soak of her own.

‘Here’ Neal said as he appeared in the bathroom holding a hot cup of tea. ‘Chamomile... Moz swears by this stuff.’

Sara gave him a weak smile and pulled him down for a kiss. Neal’s soft kisses were the most soothing thing she could imagine - even _better_ than chamomile tea.

‘Early night?’ he asked as he sat on the edge of the tub and gently rubbed her shoulders.

‘Yeah’ Sara answered in between sips of tea. ‘Early night.’

By the time she made her way into their bedroom, Neal was already settled between the sheets with the laptop on his chest. She surmised he was probably doing the same thing she’d done earlier although she would never know for sure considering the speed with which he slammed the computer shut and placed it on the bedside table.

‘Better?’ he asked as Sara slipped into a pair of yoga pants and pulled on one of Neal’s t-shirts.

‘Much’ she fibbed, eyes full of mischief.

He could see her mind churning away as he stared into her eyes. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he asked softly.

‘No’ Sara replied with a naughty smile.

She walked over to the make-up table and opened the drawer, pulling out the brown curly wig Janet had talked her into buying - the one she usually reserved for those special ‘extra- curricular’ activities. She heard Neal chuckle and she took a moment to position it on her head and run her fingers through it, instantly transforming into a seductress.

She turned to find Neal grinning at her and she crawled up the bed and curled up against him, up on one elbow as she let her hand run languidly up and down his chest.

‘I don't want to talk at all’ she whispered, her voice shaky.

Neal gave her a playful smile as her intentions became clear. ‘Oh, yeah? And what did you have in mind, then?’

Her lips moved in on his, soft yet full of emotion and she lingered there for a few seconds, biting his lower lip and waiting for a response - which did not take long to materialize. Neal’s hands slowly moved to cradle her hips and he carefully lifted her up onto him, their lips still fused together as he let out a soft moan in response to the wonderful sensation of her body pressed up against his.

‘You sure you’re up for this?’ he asked, searching her eyes.

‘I think the question is whether you’re _up_ for this’ she countered as her hand lingered down to cup his privates. 

He shook his head at her bawdy comment and grinned at her, running his hand down her cheek. He was all for making love to his wife, pretty well anytime, anyplace but not if lovemaking was being used to avoid talking about important things.

‘Sara...’ he whispered, still unsure.

‘Neal...’ she purred, leaning into his ear. ‘There’s nothing we can do about it tonight... and you’re leaving on Monday. Please... I need you.’

He leaned in, nipping at her mouth, his lips growing hungrier as she continued to press up insistently against him.

There was a time for talking. Apparently, this wasn't one of them.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

At just over 34 inches in height, Hope Ellis-Caffrey was tall for her age. Although she had inherited her dad’s dark wavy hair and his clear blue eyes, her body type was all Sara, tall and sinewy despite her delicate frame. On Sunday afternoon, she appeared in the doorway to her parents’ bedroom, a look of determination in her eyes and a tiny pink suitcase hanging from her right hand as she gave her dad a hopeful smile.

‘Hope come, Poppa’ she said to her dad who was busy packing his suitcase.

Neal let out a gentle laugh at the sight of her standing there, acting so grown up, and he sat on the edge of the bed, opening his arms to her.

‘Honey, that’s the case for your _doll’s_ clothes’ he said as she climbed nimbly onto his lap. ‘And besides, you need to stay _here_... with Mommy.’

‘No, Hope come’ she whined as Neal gave her a warm smile and tucked her into his arms.

‘If you come with me on my trip, who’s going to feed Elmer and Doris?’ he asked, searching his daughter’s eyes.

Hope seemed to reflect for a moment, her face scrunched up as she thought of her two goldfish, her pride and joy.

‘They need _you_ to take care of them’ Neal reminded her as she continued to frown.

He hated the thought of leaving her - and her mom - even for just a few days. This whole road trip couldn't be over soon enough as far as he was concerned. Since her arrival in their lives almost two years earlier, he’d rarely been separated from her for more than a few hours at a time and certainly never overnight. As a matter of fact, as Hope’s main caregiver, he was seldom separated from his daughter at all, sharing pretty well every minute of every day, watching in wonder as she continued to explore life through her inquisitive blue eyes.

He loved it all - sharing in Hope’s fits of laughter and comforting her through the tears, preparing healthy meals for her and Sara, bringing her with him into his studio while he worked and watching her eyes widen with each new and amazing discovery. He’d been lucky enough to have a front row seat as Hope spoke her first words and took her first steps and it had been a privilege to watch the beautiful toddler grow and develop with each passing day.

Of course, there were days when he could have done with a little more adult interaction but he'd never had a moment’s regret about his and Sara’s joint decision to have him stay home and care for Hope until he eventually settled into a new career - as unsure as he was about what that might be.

Just to keep his sanity, he still worked the odd case with Peter and he’d been approached by a couple of insurance companies to give them a hand with art authentication but mostly, his job was to keep things running smoothly on the home front while Sara acted as the main breadwinner - at least until Hope started school.

He swallowed hard as he watched Hope pout and she sniffled, staring up at her dad with her bright blue eyes brimming with unshed tears.

‘Maybe Mommy will let you sleep in bed with her while I’m gone’ Neal whispered.

Hope’s mood appeared to brighten somewhat at the suggestion but the momentary smile dissolved almost immediately and she brought her face to rest under Neal’s chin, her little arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

‘Stay Poppa’ she sobbed.

Neal’s heart grew heavy and he instinctively coughed to cover up the emotion he could feel rising in his throat.

‘Aww, sweet pea. Don’t cry. Daddy won’t be gone long...’ he said as he pulled her in tighter. ‘ ... and we can talk on the phone _every_ night before you go to bed.’

She sniffled and continued to hold on to him with all her might.

‘I’ve got an idea’ Neal said, his throat tightening. ‘Why don’t you go choose some books and I’ll bring them with me in my suitcase and I can read you a bedtime story on the phone every night before you go to sleep.’

Hope frowned, not sure she understood the logistics of what her dad had just explained but nevertheless, she nodded enthusiastically and hopped off the bed, heading off to search for some of her favourite books.

Sara appeared at their bedroom door, carrying a basket of clean laundry and she heard Neal giggling to himself as she lay the basket beside him on the bed.

‘What was _that_ all about?’ she asked.

‘I just promised Hope I’d read her a bedtime story every night on the phone’ he said as he grabbed for some clean socks from the basket.

‘Oh... and just a heads up...’ he confessed with a grimace. ‘...I might have promised her you’d let her sleep in our bed while I’m gone.’

‘Neeeal’ she whined. ‘She kicks like a mule, you know that!’

‘I’m sorry, baby. It was the only thing I could think of to make her feel better’ he admitted. ‘You know, I never thought she’d react like this to me going away.’

Sara stopped what she was doing and walked over to where Neal stood, tucking a few pairs of socks into the edge of his suitcase.

‘You know Caffrey, she’s not the only one who’s going to miss you’ she declared as she slid her arms around his waist.

Neal gave her a sad smile. ‘Stop it...’ he said petulantly ‘... or I’ll decide to stay home.’

He brought his lips to hers, his arms snaking around her waist as he enjoyed her familiar curves against his body. The kiss deepened and the couple suddenly became aware they were no longer alone.

‘Poppa, look!’ they heard as they reluctantly broke apart to find Hope hovering in the doorway, a huge pile of books teetering in her small arms.

‘Books!’ she declared with a wide grin as she dumped the large bundle into her daddy’s open suitcase.

‘Lots of books!’ Neal echoed as he gave his wife a sideways glance.

WCWCWC

‘Neal, will you please stop worrying’ Sara said for the umpteenth time. ‘We’re going to be fine.’

He nuzzled closer, breathing her in deeply as if he were trying to commit every single detail about his wife to memory.

‘There’s just so much going on right now... I hate to leave you like this’ he moaned as he ran his hand up and down her back.

Sara pulled away to look into Neal’s eyes. ‘Do I have to remind you that, before you came along, I did _everything_ on my own’ she answered rather boastfully.

‘But you have to admit, it wasn't _nearly_ as much fun’ he said with a smug grin and a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Sara laughed out loud. ‘ _You_ are impossible!’ she said.

‘And you wouldn't have me any other way...’ Neal added, completing the thought.

‘I’m serious Neal. After what this scumbag did, you need to stop worrying about me and start concentrating on getting him locked up for good. Promise me...’ Sara said, suddenly serious.

Neal momentarily let her slip from his grasp and he fell back on his pillow, bringing his hand up behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. He’d just given her the details of the horrible crime Ryan Wilkes had been accused of. The man had kidnapped a young boy for ransom and the child had been found bound and gagged and without a pulse by local police. Sadly, the twelve-year-old had later died in hospital and as was his usual MO, Wilkes had managed to remain at arms’ length, letting his underlings do the bulk of the dirty work. Luckily, one of his foot soldiers had turned state’s evidence and was primed to testify against his boss in return for a reduced sentence. No DNA or other direct evidence linking Wilkes to the crime had been found and the state’s case rested on the thug’s testimony as well as the information the FBI would be sharing regarding their previous dealings with Wilkes.

Neal shook his head as he thought of the sick, twisted soul that was Ryan Wilkes. He wished he’d never met the man and he regretted ever having been associated to him.

‘I wish I’d never had anything to do with him... he’s evil’ he commented, his face serious.

‘That’s all in the past honey. And if it hadn't been for you, who knows what would have happened to Lindsay Gless.’

Neal nodded. ‘Well, at least I was able to help _her_...’ he answered thoughtfully as he recalled the hoops Wilkes had made him jump through in order to keep the teenager safe.

He seemed to shake off the troubling memories and he turned to Sara, slipping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her in against his chest.

‘Just... just promise me you won’t push yourself too hard while I’m gone, okay? Donna’s going to take Hope while you’re at work and El said she’d come and give you a hand, all you need to do is ask’ he said, his voice quiet.

‘And if you need to, just leave Hope at the Masons for an extra hour after work and have a nap. You know how you get if you don’t have that nap...’ he continued as Sara grinned.

‘You know, you’re being ridiculous. I’m not a child, Neal’ she finally said.

‘I know, I know... I’m sorry. I just want to make sure you get plenty of rest and you don’t overdo it... that’s all. And I promise I’ll be back in plenty of time for that appointment with the specialist’ he said as he playfully touched the tip of Sara’s nose and brought his lips to her forehead.

‘And _you_ go out there and put that son of a bitch back behind bars where he belongs’ she answered, breaking the tender moment.

Neal scoffed and shook his head as he was reminded of just how badass his wife really was.

‘Now, get some sleep. Peter will be here first thing in the morning’ Sara added as she closed her eyes and brought her hand to rest around his waist.

As Neal was about to find out, that was easier said than done.

WCWCWC

Peter and Neal were on the I80 by 8:00 on Monday morning. The plan was to drive all day and check into the Quality Suites in downtown Lansing by nightfall but the weather had been threatening and a plan B had been hatched as an alternative to the eleven hour drive. If the weather got too bad, they’d stop for the night and continue on to the their final destination in the morning in time for their meeting with the District Attorney’s office, scheduled for Tuesday afternoon at 1:00. At that time, they would be properly briefed on the case and have a run through of the testimony they would both be giving.

‘Muffin?’ Neal asked as he dug through the bag of food he’d prepared for the road trip.

‘What kind?’ Peter asked, eyes glued to the road.

‘I’ve got... cranberry lemon and blueberry’ Neal announced, pulling out one of each for Peter to choose.

‘Mmm. Love your blueberry muffins’ Peter said as he took the pastry from Neal’s outstretched hand.

‘So, how did you leave things with Sara?’ he asked, his mouth full.

Neal sighed. ‘Oh, you know how determined she can be. I can’t help worrying about her, though...’

Peter gave him a sideways glance.

‘What?’ Neal said between sips of coffee.

‘You, that’s what. You dote on her... all the time.’

‘ _I_ dote on her? What are you talking about? I do _not_ dote on her’ Neal whined.

‘You’re kidding, right?’ Peter said with a chuckle. ‘Don’t you remember how you were when she was pregnant with Hope? You were downright cloying... I’m surprised she didn't file for divorce.’

‘Well, excuse me for looking out for my wife!’ Neal said, indignant.

‘Neal, she’s a grown woman, she can take care of herself. As a matter of fact, I would put my money on _her_ if the two of you ever came across a thug in a dark alley. Sometimes, she downright scares me...’

Neal grew quiet and Peter wondered if he'd somehow hurt his partner’s feelings - he could be pretty thin skinned at times.

‘What is it? Is there something you’re not telling me.’

Neal stared out the window at the stray snowflakes coming down. He hadn't planned on telling Peter about what had happened in Dr. Franklin’s office but he suddenly felt the urge to share what was weighing so heavily on his mind.

‘Just some... complications with Sara’s last CT scan’ he said reluctantly.

Where moments before, Peter had been having a great old time teasing him, his mood changed, growing serious.

‘What do you mean, complications?’

‘It’s a lot of mumbo jumbo, Peter...’ Neal began. ‘Let’s just say, she might not be out of the woods yet.’

‘Really?’ Peter said, glancing over at his best friend. ‘I’m sorry, buddy... I didn't mean to tease you.’

‘It’s okay’ Neal replied with a shrug. ‘You couldn't have known.’

‘So what happens now?’

‘We’re going to see another specialist just to make sure she doesn't need any more treatments’ Neal explained.

‘You mean... more chemo?’

‘Maybe...’ Neal said, his voice trailing.

Silence returned as Peter searched for something meaningful to say. He’d been a witness to the horrible months of chemo Sara had gone through and he didn't wish what she’d been through on his worst enemy.

He returned his attention to the road ahead and watched out of the corner of his eye as Neal reached out to turn on the radio - a sure sign that the subject was now closed.

WCWCWC

‘Hurry up sweetie!’ Sara said as she coaxed her daughter into taking one more bite of oatmeal. ‘You get to play with Olivia today. Are you excited?’

Hope had been dragging her feet ever since she’d gotten out of bed that morning despite her earlier excitement at the prospect of spending the day with her best friend. She had said her goodbyes to her dad before bed the night before and she and Neal had chosen ‘Goodnight Moon’ as the book he would read to her when he finally arrived in his hotel room that night.

Sara hadn't wanted a repeat of the tears from the previous day and she’d been relieved to send Neal off on her own without any additional drama. But Hope had been disappointed to find her daddy gone when she woke up and she’d been moping ever since.

‘Daddy will be so proud of you for finishing your breakfast’ Sara said, by way of encouragement. ‘You can tell him on the phone when he calls tonight.’

Hope just stared back, bleary eyed and that’s when Sara noticed the flush on her cheeks.

‘Are you alright, sweetheart?’ she asked as she ran a hand over her forehead.

‘Olivia?’ Hope repeated, seemingly coming back to life.

Sara frowned and seeing the smile appearing on her daughter’s face, she relaxed. Everything was going to be just fine.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

‘CARRY ON MY WAYWARD SON, THERE’LL BE PEACE WHEN YOU ARE DONE, LAY YOUR WEARY HEAD TO REST, DON’T YOU CRY, DON’T YOU CRY NO MORE’ Neal belted out at the top of his lungs as they flew by the turnoff for Williamsport, Pennsylvania.

Peter joined in with an animated air guitar solo, face grimacing and head rocking frantically back and forth while Neal chuckled from behind the wheel at Peter’s sad imitation of a 70s rocker.

‘What?’ Peter asked, somewhat insulted by Neal’s reaction.

‘I just never pegged you as a Kansas fan, that’s all’ Neal said. ‘Thought you were more of a country and western type.’

‘I can _do_ rock’ Peter stated, seemingly offended. ‘I was a teenager once too, you know... it was just a little while ago, that’s all.’

Neal nodded as the continued to bob his head to the music.

‘You know I hate to give you any more ammunition, considering your more than healthy ego, but you’ve got a pretty good set of lungs there’ Peter grudgingly admitted.

Neal gave him an eyebrow wag as he gloated. ‘I _love_ singing. I sang in a choir once.’

‘You sang in a _choir_?’ Peter asked as he turned to face Neal in the confined space. He thought he knew his best friend better than anyone but every now and then, Caffrey would come up with some gem about his past that bowled Peter over.

‘Yeah, back a few years... I infiltrated the Brussels Choral Society on a... job’ Neal said hesitantly.

‘A job?’ Peter repeated.

‘The choir was planning a concert at the Musée des instruments de musique and I had my eye on an ancient transverse flute from Tanzania that was being displayed there. Being in the choir gave me easy access to the museum’ Neal explained, slipping seamlessly from English to perfect French, well, perfect as far as Peter could tell.

Peter scowled. Sometimes he wondered if Neal just made this stuff up but sadly, he knew all too well that Neal had travelled the globe extensively on a lot of different ‘jobs’ over the years.

‘The thing was worth $800,000 so I joined the choir for the four months leading up to the concert. Once we were in there...’ Neal stopped suddenly and Peter could see him doing some mental math.

‘Counting back to see if the statute of limitations has run out on that one?’ Peter asked knowingly.

‘Force of habit’ Neal admitted.

‘So, did you ever get it?’ Peter asked, curious as Neal frowned. 

‘The flute? I’ll let you know... in another six months’ Neal finally said as he ostensibly finished his calculations.

Peter shook his head. How had a straight as an arrow guy like himself ever developed such a close and caring friendship with the likes of Neal Caffrey, who represented everything Peter had once despised: smugness, brazenness, impulse control issues, hubris, self-importance and vanity to boot.

The flip side of the coin, of course, was that the man sitting to his left was generous to a fault, kindhearted, considerate, selfless, caring, and loyal and thankfully, he’d left _most_ of his extra curricular activities behind after Hope’s birth.

‘How do you keep track of all that stuff?’ Peter asked, suddenly curious.

Statutes of limitations varied widely from country to country based on the nature of the crime; surely, there was a master list somewhere of all the stuff Neal had illegally obtained over the years and the dates at which it was safe to bring them out into the open and brazenly gloat. Peter had a fleeting image of some complicated Excel chart outlining the item, its origin, its value, its street worth and its present location - among other things.

‘Moz used to take care of all that for me’ Neal explained.

‘Used to?’ Peter asked.

‘There’s very little left floating around out there. After Hope was born... well, it just seemed like it was more trouble than it was worth to try to keep track of all that stuff so I got rid of most everything, gave away some stuff, returned a few things...’

‘You _returned_ a few things?’ Peter asked, surprised.

‘Peter, you wound me with your lack of faith in me. Some things are so beautiful... well, they should be displayed publicly, where everybody can admire them. Sara helped a lot... she returned some stuff through Sterling Bosch - anonymously of course and... well, I gave Mozzie a lot of stuff too.’

Peter listened in silence. He’d had no idea Neal had returned most of the items he’d acquired illegally over the years. He'd never wanted to ask - plausible deniability and all that - but he’d assumed Neal still had a healthy stash somewhere and might even be living off the profits of his previous life of crime although he could certainly attest to the modest life he and Sara lived in Westchester.

After all this time, Neal was still full of surprises.

‘I forgot to tell you’ Peter said, his face suddenly animated. ‘I got a call from Geoffrey Merton from the DA’s office in Lansing. Your hunch paid off. Wilkes left some prints behind in a pair of plastic gloves just like he did in the Gless case. How did you know?’

‘Criminals are just like everybody else, Peter. They have their own little... idiosyncrasies. Wilkes used to brag about using household items at the scene of the crime and leaving them behind in plain view... it was his ‘thing’ just like I used to initial all those forgeries.’

Peter smiled at Neal’s use of ‘they’ instead of ‘we’; he really _had_ turned a corner.

‘Well, it helped strengthen the prosecution’s case. Now they’ve got physical evidence linking him to the kidnapping’ Peter said, proudly. ‘Good work, buddy!’

Neal had always been a tremendous asset to the Bureau and Peter had been disappointed when he’d turned down his offer to stay on as a paid consultant. When his anklet had come off, Hope was just a baby and Neal had opted to stay home with her while Sara went back to work full time. Peter knew his best friend was still struggling with his plans for the future. It didn't hurt to remind him that he'd be a great consultant, maybe even an agent someday, if he was so inclined.

‘You know that offer I made a while back...’ he began as Neal glanced over at him.

‘That’s not who I am, Peter. That’s _you_ ’ he said, sadly realizing he hadn't quite figured out what it was he wanted to do with his newfound freedom. ‘For now, I’m happy to help you out on cases from time to time and be home for Hope. Another couple of years and she’ll be in school.’

‘Incredible, isn't it?’ Peter agreed. ‘I still remember the night you guys came over to tell us Sara was pregnant. It seems like yesterday.’

Neal smiled at the recollection, an honest to goodness sincere smile, no sign of the phoney Caffrey grin he was so famous for and Peter sighed in contentment at the sight of his friend so happy and settled.

WCWCWC

‘Ms Ellis?’ the soft voice called out through the door to her office.

Sara stirred from her catnap, her head still leaning back against her chair.

‘Yes’ she answered, her voice hoarse.

‘It’s 1:00’ her assistant, Verna, said.

When Sara had come back to work following her surgery and subsequent treatments, Winston Bosch had been very good about accommodating her gradual return. Luckily, her assistant was a kind, older woman who’d been very sympathetic to Sara’s situation and had found ways to cover for her when Sara wasn't at the top of her form. Verna would make sure the blinds in Sara’s office were pulled shut before she headed out for lunch and she would return an hour later and gently wake her boss from her mid-day nap.

‘Thanks Verna!’ Sara called out as she stood and opened her office door.

She returned to her desk to take stock of the e-mails which had accumulated over the past hour and check her personal phone for any texts or messages. There were three texts, one from Elizabeth asking how she was feeling and two from Neal, the first letting her know they were moving along at a decent pace and expected to make it all the way to Lansing by 7:00. A second text, seemingly an afterthought, consisted of a heart emoticon with a short message reminding her that he’d call before Hope’s bedtime and pointing out just how much he missed her.

She smiled and grabbed for her desk phone, calling the Mason home, where Donna answered on the second ring.

‘Sara! How’s your day going?’ her friend asked.

‘I’m good. What about you? How are the girls?’

‘Napping’ Donna answered. ‘And mama’s about to sit down with a cup of tea to watch her soap before they wake up.’

‘So, Hope’s not too much trouble?’ Sara asked.

‘Are you kidding. You know that old saying about two being easier than one - definitely true in this case. The girls had a great time this morning. We did some finger painting, they looked at books and then, they helped me make grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch.’

‘That must have put a smile on her face’ Sara laughed at the visual. ‘I should be there on the 5:00 train so give me about...’

‘Look, Sara, there’s no rush to pick her up. Why don't you go home and rest for awhile after work’ Donna interrupted. ‘I can give the girls dinner. Jeff’s working late anyway. Come and get her when you’ve had a chance to rest up. I’ll even hold leftovers for you.’

‘This reeks of Neal...’ Sara said as Donna Mason laughed, neither confirming nor denying Sara’s deduction.

‘You just take it easy. Hope’s in good hands.’

Sara returned to her computer screen; there were clients to see, meetings to arrange and e-mails to read. She settled in for a long afternoon.

WCWCWC

‘That one was disgusting!’ Neal opined as he climbed back into the passenger seat of the car. ‘I wouldn't give it more than a four.’

They’d just left a rest stop near Grove City, Pennsylvania, the third bathroom break thus far on their long journey - thanks to the four extra-large vanilla lattes Neal had thrown back since they’d left White Plains that morning. Out of sheer boredom, they had taken the time to develop some intricate criteria in order to rate the many rest stops which lined the interstate.

‘A four? I would give it a three - and I’m being generous!’ Peter ranted. ‘Did you see that disgusting wad of toilet paper in the corner of the men’s room.’

‘Ewww!’ Neal shouted. ‘All right, that one just went down to a three and a half’ he said as he made a note of their ratings on a paper napkin he’d set aside for that purpose.

‘Now where were we?’ he asked as he settled in and watched Peter start the car. ‘Oh yeah, I gave you Matt Damon, Reese Witherspoon and Sofia Vergara.’

Peter frowned. ‘I hate this stupid game’ he complained.

‘You’re the one who didn't want to play the license plate game’ Neal reminded him.

‘It’s getting dark out. We can’t even _see_ the damn license plates’ Peter whined.

‘Which brings us back to Matt Damon, Reese Witherspoon and Sofia Vergara’ Neal repeated with forced patience.

‘All right, all right, alright’ Peter grumbled. ‘I would... kill Matt Damon because he’s too much competition... I would date Sofia whatshername for... obvious reasons and I would marry Reese Witherspoon because she has a sweet, innocent face and she reminds me of my wife.’

‘You are such a suck!’ Neal declared.

‘My turn’ Peter continued, eager to throw Neal a curve. ‘Ryan Gosling, Ryan Reynolds and Ryan Seacrest.’

‘Oooh, triple Ryans...’ Neal said, without missing a beat. ‘I can embrace my feminine side as well as the next guy. Let’s see, I would kill Seacrest because, let’s face it, he’s just plain annoying, I would...date Ryan Reynolds, he’s cute and I’m sure he’s good for a laugh and I would marry Gosling. He looks like a good guy and he’s Canadian and... well, everybody knows you can't go wrong with a Canadian. Plus, I think they allow dual citizenship in Canada so I could get a legitimate Canadian passport - that could always come in handy... you know, if I ever needed to leave the country precipitously.’

Peter rolled his eyes. Leave it to Neal to think about ways to legally emigrate to another country. Neal’s easygoing response to being presented with the names of three men peaked Peter’s curiosity.

‘Have you ever...’ he began, suddenly embarrassed. They had been stranded in the car for _way_ too long if he was going to go _there._

Neal put him out of his misery, anticipating the rest of Peter’s obviously awkward question. ‘You mean, have I ever been with a man?’ Neal asked as Peter nodded silently.

‘I went through a period in my early teens where I did a little bit of... experimenting’ Neal admitted easily. ‘But it didn't do much for me so I kind of ... stopped experimenting.’

How did Peter not know that about Neal? He always knew Caffrey was Mr. Metrosexual but he had always been into women as far as he’d seen. Then again, there was that way the charismatic ex-con flirted with just about anything on two legs.

‘What about you?’ Neal asked. Turnabout was fair play.

‘No. But... I’ve always been curious’ Peter admitted.

‘You know, Peter, there’s no such thing as being one hundred percent straight or one hundred percent gay. Sexual orientation is on a continuum ranging from exclusive attraction to the opposite sex to exclusive attraction to the same sex. Plus, people are people and who’s to say what or who we find attractive. I find a lot of men attractive but I prefer to have sex with women or should I say one particular woman...’ Neal corrected as he droned on.

Peter glared at him. Neal had gotten all that out without even taking a single breath. ‘Okay, that’s it Caffrey. I’m cutting you off coffee.’

Neal continued, undeterred. ‘You could really benefit from embracing your feminine side. There are a lot of advantages to it’ Neal said with his usual confidence.

‘Oh yeah?’ Peter asked. ‘Like what, Einstein?’

‘Well, for one thing you could dress a lot smarter than you do if you weren’t choking on all that testosterone’ Neal began.

‘There is _nothing_ wrong with the way I dress!’ Peter declared, indignant. 

Even in the dark, he could see Neal rolling his eyes at his last comment. ‘Of course there isn’t. If you’re a mortician... or a mortgage loan officer. You should experiment more, you know I could take you shopping.’

‘Oh, no! I’m not letting you loose in a clothing store with me. You’d probably have me looking like... like...

‘Like what, Peter? A well-dressed man?’ Neal responded. ‘Besides, it might even help improve your marriage if you stopped acting so macho all the time.’

Peter took his eyes off the road for a brief moment, glaring at his best friend.

‘Oh, because you think being in touch with my ‘feminine’ side is going to help me between the sheets’ he said, air quotes and all.

‘You said it, not me’ Neal answered dismissively. ‘Look, when you put yourself in a woman’s place, you can better understand what she’s feeling, what she needs, what she wants. It’s made our sex life a lot better, just ask Sara’ he concluded with confidence.

Peter scoffed. He sure as hell wouldn't be asking Sara _anything_ about her and Neal’s sex life, that was for sure. He grew flustered and he reached for the radio.

‘Maybe there’s a game on we could listen to’ he mumbled.

‘Just sayin’’ Neal said haughtily.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

The sign by the side of the road appeared in the car’s bright headlights: _Lansing 46 miles._

‘Finally!’ Neal whined as he stuffed a handful of potato chips into his mouth.

‘How old are you? Five?’ Peter asked, his tone irritable.

The snow had been falling without respite for the past hour and the two friends had had just about enough of being trapped in a car together for going on eleven hours straight. Tempers were flaring, to say nothing of the physical fatigue of driving all day in crappy weather.

‘You know, I don't remember _ever_ seeing you eat potato chips in all the time I’ve known you’ Peter commented.

‘That’s ‘cause I don’t eat chips’ Neal mumbled, his mouth full to overflowing.

‘So what’s that in your mouth? Carrot sticks?’ Peter shot back. It was definitely time to get the hell out of the car before one of them said something they’d live to regret.

‘No, I just... Never mind’ Neal growled back. ‘Look, step on it, will you? I want to check in by 7:00, I promised Hope I’d read her a bedtime story on the phone.’

‘And how do you plan on doing that?’ Peter asked mordantly. ‘Did you memorize the whole series of Dr. Seuss books?’

Neal gave him a look of pure irritation and Peter sighed loudly.

‘If you _must_ know, I brought some of her books with me’ Neal answered, annoyed.

‘You brought children’s books... in your suitcase?’ Peter asked, obviously requiring clarification.

‘Yes!’ Neal responded with a tone of exasperation he didn't even attempt to disguise.

‘Did you bring a copy of _Blancanieves y los siete eneros_?’ Peter asked mockingly, recalling their very first case together.

‘No, I did not!’ Neal answered curtly between bites. ‘And its ‘enanos’ not eneros. Enero means January’ Neal replied in the most uppity tone of voice he could conjure up.

Peter gave him a dirty look; you couldn't argue with Caffrey - certainly when it came to the man’s extensive knowledge of foreign languages.

‘So, did the Bureau at least spring for _dos_ rooms’ Neal asked, changing the subject and glaring at Peter. ‘That’s ‘two’ by the way.’

‘Well, actually...’ Peter began hesitantly.

‘No! You’re kidding. We’re not...’ Neal said, horrified at the thought of having to share a bed with Peter. Peter was a notorious snorer, this, he knew from Elizabeth’s constant complaining to Sara and he had no interest in putting up with the nocturnal sounds of a very loud freight train.

‘Calm down!’ Peter exhorted. ‘It’s not that bad. We’ve got a suite with a bed and a pull-out couch in the living area - ’

‘Dibs on the bed’ Neal shouted before Peter had even finished his sentence.

‘You are _not_ getting dibs on the bed’ Peter said authoritatively. ‘We can... take turns.’

‘Oh, so how’s that gonna work, Sleeping Beauty? You want to change places every hour on the hour?’ Neal asked, testily.

‘No’ Peter answered as calmly as he could muster under the circumstances. ‘We’ll be there at least three nights, we can each take the bed for one night - ’

‘Dibs on the bed for the third night!’ Neal shouted, like a spoiled brat.

‘Oh, my God. No coffee for you tomorrow ... and no chips’ Peter said, summoning his inner parent.

He was exhausted from the long day and as much as he enjoyed spending time with Neal, they could both benefit from a little bit of time apart.

‘Look, Neal, we’ve got a little less than an hour to go. Let’s find something to talk about to pass the time. How about...’

‘How old were you? The first time?’ Neal blurted out between copious mouthfuls of chips.

‘You mean sex?’ Peter said.

‘No, I mean the first time you had chips!’ Neal countered sarcastically. ‘Of course, I mean sex!’

Peter cleared his throat as his mind flashed back to upstate New York, thirty-five years earlier. ‘Wow, I haven't thought about Helga in years...’

Neal choked on a mouthful of chips and they came flying out of his mouth with force, landing down the front of his shirt as he burst into a fit of uncontrolled laughter. Peter gave his best friend a dirty look but Neal didn't care; he was going to have fun at Peter’s expense, no matter what.

‘Helga!’ his voice echoed in the car. ‘Her name was Helga?’

Peter shot him a look of pure annoyance. Neal could be so immature at times.

‘What was she? A wrestler?’ Neal howled with laughter as he started to cough irrepressibly.

He put his hand up, urging Peter to wait while he caught his breath. ‘...or a 500 pound massage therapist?’ he snorted loudly.

‘Neal!’ Peter shouted back. ‘Cut it out. That’s really rude.’

Neal was howling and coughing simultaneously, unable to catch his breath. He took a couple of good, solid breaths. He wasn't done having fun with this one.

‘Where did you meet her? At the pie eating table of the county fair?’ Neal continued, laughing loudly, totally out of control.

Peter’s silence spoke volumes and after a few moments, Neal began to regain control of himself, his breathing becoming regular once again.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ he added, still laughing and not sounding sorry at all. ‘It’s just... Helga...’

Peter took a deep breath and tried to keep his temper in check. Neal was clearly giddy from their long day on the road but that was no excuse for such crassness.

‘She was a Danish exchange student at our school and we hung out one summer because she didn't have very many friends’ Peter explained.

Neal was doing his very best not to laugh - which wasn't saying much - and he cleared his throat to regain control of his impulses.

‘How old were you?’ he asked, trying hard to remain serious.

‘I was fifteen and I had a terrible case of acne. None of the girls in my class were interested in me and then, she came along and she was kind and sweet and... well, not at all what you might expect someone named Helga to look like. She had blond hair and green eyes and we communicated mostly with signs because her English was so poor.’

‘So, you showed her how to play ‘hide the salami’?’ Neal blurted out, seemingly unable to hold back.

‘NEAL! For heaven’s sake’ Peter shouted. ‘You’re making it sound so... sleazy! It was... sweet and... memorable. We did it in the neighbour’s barn on a breezy day in July. We were both nervous but... well, we managed to figure things out...’ he added, his voice far away.

Neal was tempted to make a crack about the proverbial roll in the hay but he remained quiet. Truth be told, it _did_ sound sweet, certainly much nicer than his first time in the back room of a pool hall in St. Louis.

‘I suppose _your_ first time was romantic and you were totally in control of the situation. What did you do? Take her out for ice cream floats and sweep her off her feet?’ Peter asked with more than a touch of envy.

Neal Caffrey was the epitome of poise and self-assurance; he’d probably never had a pimple his whole life.

Neal grew serious all of a sudden as he flashed back to those years in St. Louis, full of bittersweet memories as he struggled with an absent father and an emotionally unavailable mother.

‘You’d be surprised’ he finally said wistfully. ‘Her name was Brenda and she served beer at the pool hall where I used to hustle. I was sixteen.’

‘Really?’ Peter said, surprised. ‘I thought Neal Caffrey would have lost his virginity long before that.’

Neal gave him a look of bewilderment. ‘Peter, I really don’t know why you have this image of me as some unflappable, confident kid. I was anything but. I was confused... drifting. I’d fallen in with these older guys and I used to skip school to play pool just so I could make a few bucks.’

‘You didn't have a girlfriend growing up?’

‘No, not really. I had my share of crushes and I used to make out with one of the waitresses in the alley behind the local coffee shop when I couldn't afford to pay for my Coke and fries... but I didn't feel very confident back then.’

Peter’s face grew sad as he was reminded of Neal’s childhood. Contrary to the charmed life he’d lived in upstate New York, surrounded by loving parents and siblings, Neal had been left to figure things out on his own without the parental guidance he’d so badly needed.

‘Anyway, the guys kinda goaded me into it and she took me into the stock room and... well, it was over in about thirty seconds. She was older, in her mid twenties and it didn't take much for me to... well, let’s just say I chatted her up for about ten minutes afterwards so the guys wouldn't know I had zero staying power.’

Peter remained quiet; he could have easily teased Neal about his lack of sexual stamina but it seemed like a cheap shot considering the candour with which Neal had just shared his feelings.

‘Dammit!’ Neal yelled out, suddenly snapping out of the nostalgia. ‘I have to pee again.’

‘For God’s sake, Caffrey! This time, I’m pulling over and you can damn well do it by the side of the road.’ Peter griped as he checked his rearview mirror in order to safely pull over.

They couldn't get to their destination soon enough.

WCWCWC

‘Hurry up, sweetie. Daddy’s going to call soon’ Sara urged her daughter as Hope struggled with brushing her teeth.

She teetered on the small pink stool as Sara held her hips to keep her from toppling over. ‘Mama, bobo’ she moaned.

‘Honey, you keep saying bobo but you need to tell me, _where_ your bobo is’ Sara said, growing impatient.

Ever since she’d picked her up at the Masons, Hope had been complaining about not feeling well yet she was unable to give her mom any details.

‘Show me with your finger where your bobo is’ Sara instructed as Hope held up her finger and stared at it insipidly.

Sara let out a sigh of frustration as the phone rang in the distance.

‘Stay here, sweetie, Mommy will be right back’ Sara said as she made a run for her bedroom.

WCWCWC

‘Not bad’ Neal commented as the men finally stepped into their hotel suite.

It was just a few minutes after 7:00 and the snow continued to drift outside as the city of Lansing braced for a major snowstorm overnight. Neal walked over to the bed, grabbing the mint off one of the pillows and he threw it back as he made himself comfortable on the bed. What was it they said about possession being nine-tenths of the law?

Peter lugged in his suitcase, placing it on the bed and he glared at Neal who smiled back innocently.

‘So? Flip you for the first night’ Neal declared as he pulled a coin out of his pocket and held it up.

Peter eyed it suspiciously before agreeing. ‘Fine’ he muttered as Neal placed the coin on his thumb.

‘I suppose you want heads... as usual’ Neal said, his tone dreary.

‘No’ Peter declared testily. ‘Tails!’

‘Fine’ Neal said as the coin flew in the air. He caught it mid-flight and held it out for Peter to see.

‘I can give you a hand to open up the pull-out if you like’ he announced with a sweet smile.

Peter frowned and was just about to lug his suitcase out of the room when he thought better of it and turned back to gape at Neal.

‘Let me see that coin’ he said, just as Neal was about to put it back in his pocket.

‘Peter....’ Neal said. ‘Seriously?’

Peter just continued staring, his hand out as Neal reluctantly handed it over. Just as suspected, the coin was tails on both sides and he raised his eyebrow at Neal as the other man shrugged.

‘What?’ Neal said unnecessarily. ‘It was worth a shot.’

‘How did you know I was going to call tails?’ Peter asked, as always curious about the unique and devious way Neal’s mind worked.

‘I took a chance...’ the younger man said. ‘You’ve been annoyed at me for the past hour so I figured you wouldn’t choose ‘heads’... if I suggested it.’

Peter rolled his eyes. ‘Off!’ he called out as Neal reluctantly rolled off the bed.

‘Fine’ Neal declared as he moved into the open space dominated by a large comfy cough.

The men began to take out their clothes and toiletries and place them in the dressers. They’d been eating off and on all day but hadn't had a decent meal since the night before.

‘I hear the steak is good downstairs’ Peter called out as Neal searched his suitcase for the Margaret Wise Brown book he’d promised to read to his daughter.

‘Sounds good’ he answered absentmindedly as he settled on the couch and took out his phone. ‘I just need to call home first.’

Peter glanced into the other room and his heart melted at the sight of Neal, sitting there with the children’s book in his lap, preparing to make his daughter’s day.

‘Why don’t I go down and get us a table’ he said wisely. ‘Give you a bit of privacy.’

Neal smiled in response.

‘Want me to order you a beer?’ Peter asked as he walked to the door.

‘Sure’ Neal said. ‘Anything you’re having is fine with me.’

Within seconds, Neal was alone in the room and he glanced out the window at the accumulating snow as he pressed speed dial. He wondered how much accumulation they’d gotten back home in White Plains. It took a couple of rings but then, there was that voice, the one he’d been missing and looking forward to hearing all day.

‘Hey. How’s it going?’ he asked as a smile appeared on his face.

‘Hi’ came Sara’s warm voice. ‘Would you believe me if I said I already miss you?’

Neal chuckled. ‘I would’ he answered, his voice soft. ‘Because I miss you too.’

‘Hold on, okay?’ she said. ‘I’m just going to get Hope settled in bed first.’

Neal nodded and held the phone to his ear as the comforting sounds of home came on the line. He closed his eyes as he imagined the scene, Sara carrying Hope to their bed and tucking her in on his side, under the warm duvet. He heard Hope’s voice but he couldn't quite make out what she’d said and then Sara said: _‘Well, go get it then’_ and Neal realized she’d probably forgotten her favourite stuffed animal, her pink elephant, in her bedroom.

He heard the soft footfalls as Hope returned and the sound of Sara whisking her up onto the bed and tucking her in for the night. All the while, his smile grew and he wished he was there with them, tucking Hope in between the two of them and running his hand through her dark wavy hair.

‘Honey, I’m going to put you on speaker’ Sara’s voice said directly into the phone and then he could hear Sara coaxing Hope to say something.

‘Hi sweet pea!’ Neal called out.

‘Poppa!’ she responded with her child’s voice.

‘I’m here, honey. Did you have a good day?’

‘Livia!’ Hope exclaimed, her bobo seemingly forgotten for the moment.

‘I heard’ Neal said. ‘You played with Olivia today.’

‘Poppa, moon’ Hope called out, interrupting him.

‘Are you ready for me to start reading?’ he asked.

Sara watched as Hope nodded enthusiastically. ‘Daddy can’t see you, sweetie. You have to tell him you’re ready.’

Hope nodded again as she looked at her mom.

‘We’re ready’ Sara called out with a soft laugh. She turned out the light and Hope curled up into her mom’s arms as darkness enveloped them.

‘Baby, you have to close your eyes and see the pictures in your head, okay?’ Neal began as he opened the well-worn book to the first page.

It wasn't surprising she’d picked this book for the first night, it was definitely one of her very favourites. He curled up on the couch, feeling the emptiness beside him and he began to read, his voice soft and gentle.

‘In the great green room, there was a telephone and a red balloon and a picture of the cow jumping over the moon.’

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

‘Goodnight bears, goodnight chairs, goodnight kittens, goodnight...’ Neal’s velvety voice continued as Sara interrupted.

‘Honey...’ she whispered. Neal could hear the soft rustling of sheets followed by a door closing gently. ‘She’s asleep.’

‘Already?’ Neal said, somewhat disappointed. ‘She usually tries to hang on until the old lady whispers ‘hush’.’

Sara chuckled. ‘Well, she was _really_ tired’ she said as she made her way into Hope’s room and lay down on her daughter’s bed, her own eyes weary.

There was no need for Neal to know Hope wasn't feeling well; he’d just worry and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it from across the miles.

Neal let his head fall back on the comfy couch. The sound of Sara’s voice always helped mellow him out. It was deep and rich with just a touch of whimsy and it immediately brought to mind her sparkling green eyes and her mischievous smile. He closed his eyes as he imagined her, grinning back at him with that playful look in her eyes.

‘How are _you_ , Repo?’ Neal asked as he cradled the book in his lap. ‘You sound tired.’

‘I’m good. I had a productive day at work and I even got to take a nap when I got home. Thank you, by the way’ she murmured softly.

‘What for?’ Neal asked, feigning ignorance.

‘You know exactly what for. Donna was very good about following your instructions - to the letter.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about but I’m glad you got to rest’ Neal managed to say with a straight face.

‘So, how was the drive?’ Sara asked.

‘Long’ Neal responded succinctly as he stretched his legs. ‘Did you know there are 27 rest stops on the I80 between New York and Michigan - and some of those washrooms are downright nasty.’

He heard Sara’s throaty laugh and he smiled fondly; he missed her already.

‘I did get a little cabin fever at the end there... and I managed to down a whole bag of chips.’

‘What? _You_ ate a bag of chips?’ Sara said, incredulous.

‘A _whole_ bag. I told you, I went a little crazy’ he repeated with a soft chuckle.

He got quiet suddenly, reflecting. ‘I wasn't very nice to Peter... or to Helga for that matter. I guess I owe him an apology.’

Sara frowned. Helga? There was a story in there somewhere but she was too darn tired to bother asking.

‘You’ll work it out. As we both know, Peter will forgive almost _anything_ you do. Just tell him you were high on potato fumes’ Sara suggested as she tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a yawn.

‘It sounds like you’re ready for bed yourself’ Neal said, opening the book. ‘You want me to finish reading the story _just for you’_ he offered playfully. ‘I could throw in a few ad-libs... spice it up a little.’

Sara closed her eyes and curled up under Hope’s duvet.

‘Knock yourself out’ she sighed with a smile on her face.

WCWCWC

Sara woke with a start in reaction to her daughter’s loud cries coming from somewhere inside the house. It took her a moment to get her bearings and to realize she’d drifted off to sleep in Hope’s bed and that Hope was in hers - and currently screaming at the top of her lungs. She sprang out of bed and ran into her room to find her daughter sitting up in bed, tears streaming down her face, arms reaching out for her mom.

‘Momma! Momma!’ she sobbed loudly.

‘Angel! It’s okay, Mommy’s here’ Sara said as she took place next to her on the bed and enveloped her in her arms.

The sun was just coming up over the horizon and Sara could see the child’s terrified face, red and blotchy. Perhaps she’d just woken up from a bad dream.

‘Bobo, Momma, bobo!’ Hope cried breathlessly as Sara ran her hand through her hair.

It took a few minutes to calm her down but her mom’s presence next to her on the bed seemed to tone down the hysteria a notch and Hope reverted to sucking her thumb as she curled up against Sara.

‘Honey, show Mommy where it hurts’ Sara attempted anew once Hope’s breathing had returned to normal.

Hope touched her stomach, then her head as Sara rolled her eyes. Which one was it? It wasn't as if the stomach bone was connected to the head bone.

‘Your tummy hurts?’ Sara asked as Hope nodded. ‘And your head hurts?’ Same response.

With the finite vocabulary of a twenty-three-month-old, Hope was still limited in what she could communicate, causing frustration for both of them.

‘What about your foot?’ Sara asked in an attempt to ascertain what was what.

Hope nodded fiercely once more as Sara sighed. One thing was for sure, Hope wasn't feeling well. Now she had to play detective and figure out what the problem was.

WCWCWC

It turned out the hide-a-bed had a perfectly good mattress - better than a lot of beds Neal had had the displeasure of sleeping in over the years. Thankfully, the door between the actual bedroom and the living space had acted as enough of a buffer from Peter’s loud snoring to allow Neal to drift off and sleep like the proverbial baby.

He woke to the sound of Peter mutilating ‘Hotel California’ in the shower - or at least he _thought_ it was ‘Hotel California’. He stretched out on the bed, his thoughts returning to home. It was Sara’s second day as a single parent and he couldn't help but wonder if she’d managed o sleep through the night without having one of her pesky dreams. He reached for his phone by the bed and texted. At this hour, she was probably already at the office.

‘ _Good morning Repo_ ’ he typed. ‘ _How did you sleep?_ ’

She replied within a minute. ’ _Good_ ’ she responded, much too concisely for his taste. ‘ _You?_ ’

‘ _Turns out if there’s a door between us, Peter’s snoring is reduced from the sound of a freight train to a lion’s roar_ ’ he texted.

To her lack of response, he sent another question. ‘ _How’s Hope?_ ’

‘ _Missing you_ ’ she retorted, technically the truth.

‘ _Love you_ ’ he wrote, followed by his usual flurry of heart emoticons.

‘ _Good luck today_ ’ she responded with a pair of lips and a happy face.

‘Hey! The shower’s free if you want it’ Peter said, startling Neal.

Thankfully, the impromptu concert was over and Neal sat up in bed, glancing outside the window at the freshly fallen foot of snow.

‘It’s a good thing they have indoor parking here’ he stated as his feet touched the ground.

Peter made his way to the bedroom to get dressed while Neal hit the shower and twenty minutes later, they were sitting across from each other in front of a nice cup of joe in the hotel’s restaurant.

‘I’m starved’ Neal announced as he looked around at everybody else’s breakfast plates.

‘I have a feeling that meeting with the DA’s office is going to last most of the afternoon’ Peter commented. ‘So, we better eat up.’

He picked up an uncharacteristic unease on Neal’s part and he frowned.

‘You okay?’ he asked his best friend.

‘Yeah, yeah’ Neal lied as he finally gave in and blurted out what was really on his mind. ‘I just... I hate talking about that part of my life. My association with Wilkes isn't something I’m particularly proud of.’

‘I know that’ Peter said reassuringly. ‘But you’re not on trial here, Neal. You’re a witness for the prosecution.’

The waitress returned carrying two large plates of food and the men’s eyes grew at the sight.

‘Let’s dig in!’ Peter said, rubbing his hands together.

WCWCWC

Sara Ellis rarely took personal days off work. But despite a meeting scheduled with a new client, a ton of e-mails in her inbox and a lunch date with her best friend, there was no doubt in her mind as to where she needed to be. She certainly wasn't about to pawn off her sick child on the unsuspecting neighbour and risk infecting everyone in the Mason household. Whatever was ailing her daughter might be contagious and besides, she could use some down time and spending it with Hope, curled up in front of the TV sounded like just the thing - for both mother and daughter.

She’d managed to respond to Neal’s text without telling a bald-faced lie - dammit, his superior deflection skills were really rubbing off on her. She was thankful he’d texted instead of calling. She knew he would have picked up on the slightest hesitation in her voice. The last thing she wanted was for Neal to be hours away, worrying about her and Hope instead of concentrating on what he’d gone there to do. He’d be back in a few days. In the meantime, she would just have to suck it up and deal with the fact that Hope was feeling under the weather.

The mystery ailment had persisted throughout the morning but the dose of Children’s Tylenol Sara had given her an hour earlier seemed to have done the trick and Hope’s moans had diminished as she’d given in to the meds and fallen into a deep slumber, curled up on the nearby couch. Maybe whatever was ailing her would just disappear as fast as it had come. Everybody knew kids bounced back quickly.

Sara took advantage of the brief respite to take a quick shower and get dressed, returning to find Hope still sound asleep in front of Ariel who was emoting about the downside of being a mermaid.

She glanced in the fridge in search of something to eat and she had just settled on a chicken salad sandwich when the doorbell rang.

WCWCWC

‘You know you’re going to have to be very candid about your past’ Peter said as they drove the short distance from their hotel to the DA’s office in downtown Lansing. ‘Are you sure you’re up to it?’

Neal nodded and sighed wistfully. ‘Let’s face it. Partnering up with Wilkes wasn't my finest hour.’

‘Well, it was a long time ago Neal and you’ve proven that you’re nothing like that scumbag.’

Neal raised his eyebrows and looked out the window at the snow-filled streets. He’d run a couple of scams with Ryan Wilkes before his first arrest. At first, he'd thought he and Wilkes had a lot in common. They were both smart, cunning and creative and Neal had been impressed by Wilkes’ ability to circumvent obstacles others might have shied away from. On the first job they’d pulled, Neal had acted as front man on the theft of valuable coins from a private citizen’s collection. It had gone off without a hitch, thanks to Wilkes meticulous planning and Neal thought, at the time, that this might be the beginning of a wonderful partnership.

It hadn't taken long, however, for Neal to realize that Wilkes had a mean streak and wasn't afraid to use violence to get what he wanted. When the man insisted Neal use a gun on their next job, Neal had refused and their association had grown strained. Neal had proven the better adversary and he’d managed to outsmart the man, skulking away with the profits from the job and leaving Wilkes in his dust. Seeing him again that day, five years ago, as he was whisked away in a nondescript grey van, Neal had been reminded of the lengths the man would go to in order to exact revenge on him.

Peter pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the state building and he turned to face his best friend.

‘You know, I’m really proud of you, Neal. It’s not easy to stand up and own your actions from the past.’

‘It’s time to pay the piper’ Neal admitted. ‘If coming clean about what I did back then helps put this guy away, it’ll be worth it.’

‘Well, at least you don't have to worry about any repercussions. No matter what you say during your testimony, you have immunity’ Peter reminded him.

It was small comfort for Neal. The more time passed and the more comfortable he became in his role as husband, father and upstanding citizen, the harder it was to come to terms with what he’d done in the past - especially when he thought of Hope. Someday, she would find out about her dad’s sordid past and he cringed to think of how she might react when the truth finally came out. His worst fear was that she’d lose respect for him, something he’d discussed many times with Sara over the two years since Hope’s birth. Sara had downplayed his concerns, reminding him that as far as Hope was concerned, the sun rose and set on her daddy and that it would always be so but Neal wasn't so sure and doubts crept up frequently as he thought ahead to the future.

‘It’s Hope, isn't it’ Peter said as Neal looked up, surprised. ‘You’re thinking that someday, she’ll find out that you spent time in prison.’

Neal shrugged; it was _always_ in the back of his mind.

‘Neal, you’re an incredible dad and Hope is crazy about you. Nothing’s going to change that... no matter what she eventually finds out.’

‘You think so?’ Neal said, suddenly terrified. ‘What about when I ask her to be home by midnight or the first time I punish her for breaking the rules? What kind of moral authority will I have when I blatantly broke the rules over and over again and ended up in jail because of it.’

Peter shook his head. ‘You’re wrong, Neal. She’ll learn that everybody makes mistakes and that the true test of someone’s character is the way in which they own up to their mistakes and dust themselves off. You’ve made up for your mistakes - ten times over. And besides, kids are resilient. When the time is right, you can explain things as best you can and I guarantee you, it’ll immediately fade into the woodwork. All she’ll see when she looks at you is her loving dad, someone who would do anything for her. That’s _never_ gonna change.’

Neal looked over at Peter, a sad smile on his face.

‘C’mon. Let’s go’ Peter added, breaking the sombre mood.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

‘El!’ Sara exclaimed as she opened the door to find her best friend, shivering on the stoop. ‘What are _you_ doing here?’

‘I thought if you couldn't come to lunch, I’d bring lunch to you’ Elizabeth said, stepping into the house.

The sound of Hope howling was suddenly heard coming from the family room and Sara let out an exasperated sigh.

‘Oh, no. Did I do that?’ El asked as she took her coat off and hung it on a nearby hook.

‘It’s fine. Come on in’ Sara said as she rushed to the back of the house.

The sight of Hope struggling to sit up on the couch was enough to break her heart. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face red and blotchy and tears streamed down her face as she wailed at the top of her lungs. Sara took the spot next to her on the couch and Hope climbed up onto her mom’s lap, her tiny arms reaching out to grab onto her neck.

‘Momma! Momma!’ she cried breathlessly.

‘Oh, honey. What’s the matter?’ Sara cooed.

At any other time, the sight of her beloved godmother standing there would have elicited a bright smile from the child but she looked over at Elizabeth, eyes bleary, as she continued to moan.

El set the bag of food down on the kitchen counter and made her way to sit next to Sara. ‘How long has she been like this?’ she asked.

Sara’s face crumpled. Parenthood was still relatively new for her and except for a few minor ailments, Hope had always been a very healthy baby. Without Neal to bounce ideas off of, she wasn't sure what she should do.

‘She’s been running a fever since this morning. But after I gave her some Tylenol, she slept for a couple of hours.’

‘Well, that’ll get rid of the symptoms but it really just masks the fever for a while’ Elizabeth said, running her hand over the child’s face. ‘It’s definitely back, she’s burning up.’

Sara reached for the thermometer she’d set nearby and attempted to bring it up to Hope’s ear as the crying intensified and Hope fussed in her arms.

‘Honey, it’ll just take a second. Mommy needs to know if you’re running a fever’ Sara explained patiently.

She struggled to get a reading while Hope continued sobbing, louder than before, her breathing growing raspy and her voice hoarse.

‘Bobo!’ she howled as Sara and Elizabeth exchanged worried glances. 

Within seconds, the sound of the beep was heard over the moaning and Sara glanced at the thermometer, her eyes narrowing.

‘103.2’ she declared as El got to her feet and grabbed the laptop nearby.

‘Definitely a fever. It says here that if the temperature goes over 104, you should have her seen by a doctor. Why don’t you start by giving her another dose of Tylenol?’ Elizabeth suggested.

‘Do you think I should bring her to the ER?’ Sara asked, unsure as to what to do.

‘Why don't you call the doctor’s office first’ El suggested. ‘You know, kids get fevers all the time for all kinds of reasons and they bounce back quickly. Do you really want to sit in a hospital waiting room for the next eight hours surrounded by other sick kids?’

‘No’ Sara admitted sheepishly.

She thought of Neal. He was probably at the meeting with the DA’s office by now. It would only worry him if she called and yet, it would be reassuring to hear his voice.

She looked up at Elizabeth, her eyes filling with tears and she pouted like the two year old she was holding in her arms.

‘I want Neal’ she whined over the sound of Hope’s moans.

Elizabeth put her arms round her best friend. ‘I know, honey, I know.’

WCWCWC

‘Agent Burke!’ the rotund little man said as he stood and welcomed Peter and Neal into the meeting room. ‘I’m Geoffrey Merton from the DA’s office. And you must be Mr. Caffrey.’

‘Neal, please’ Neal said as he put out his hand.

Another man who’d been sitting at the conference table got to his feet and Geoffrey pointed to him as handshakes were exchanged. ‘This is Shane Norris, he’s assisting me on this case and this...’ he continued, pointing to an older woman who sat in front of a laptop ‘...is Stella Anderson, our clerk.’

Neal glanced around the room, not unlike the conference room in the White Collar offices in New York and his heart skipped a beat as he flashed back to the first time he’d stepped off the elevator of the 21st floor of the Federal Building to start his new life as a criminal informant.

He’d been off anklet now for over a year and counting his more than four years as an informant, he’d been hanging around law enforcement offices for an awfully long time. But despite that, there were moments when he still felt like the outsider, the criminal who had no business being there. These days, his feet were firmly planted on the right side of the law but even if he lived a hundred years, he would never be able to completely shake his past as a conman. There would always be those who would look at him with suspicion just as there were staff in the White Collar unit who still grabbed for their purses and held them protectively against their chest whenever Neal came into the office to visit with Peter.

In some ways, moving to White Plains and setting down roots in their new home had symbolized a new beginning for Neal. The neighbours, the local butcher, the cashier at their local grocery store, the mailman - no one suspected the life of crime Neal had lived in his earlier years and that suited him just fine. But in a setting such as this, he couldn't hide from his past and he was suddenly uncomfortable about sharing the intimate details of his dealings with Ryan Wilkes.

‘How was the drive up?’ Geoffrey Merton asked as coffee was served and everyone took their place.

Peter flashed back to Neal stuffing his face with junk food as they discussed their first sexual experiences and he shooed the image away.

‘Good, good’ he said.

‘Trial starts tomorrow and as per your request, you will be testifying early on, possibly tomorrow or Thursday’ the man explained.

‘By the way, thanks again for putting us on the trail’ he continued as he turned to face Neal. ‘The fingerprints we recovered in the family’s home have been identified as Wilkes’ and that’s going help strengthen our case. As I mentioned, one of the men who was working for Wilkes has turned state’s evidence but his credibility will likely be brought into question by the defence so we’re not certain how much mileage we’ll be able to get out of his testimony.’

Neal coughed a little to cover his discomfort; he knew the feeling. ‘Will _I_ be perceived as a credible witness?’ he couldn't help but ask.

Geoffrey and his cohort exchanged knowing glances. ‘The defence will definitely try to trip you up, paint you with the same brush as the accused’ Merton admitted. ‘But your last encounter with Wilkes while you were working with the FBI will definitely add to your credibility - and, of course, the fact that you’ve finished paying your debt to society.’

Neal nodded in understanding and Peter brought his hand to his back, giving him a friendly pat.

‘Neal was instrumental in getting Wilkes arrested for the kidnapping of Lindsay Gless. We couldn't have done it without him’ he reminded the two prosecutors.

‘I’m afraid your stint on the stand may be difficult... and long’ Merton warned as he looked at Neal. ‘The defence will dredge up your past and try to discredit everything you say. Are you up for it?’ he asked Neal.

Neal took a deep breath. ‘I am’ he said.

‘We’ll prepare you the best we can and of course, we have total control over how _we_ question you’ he said.

Neal could sense a ‘but’ and it didn't take long to materialize.

‘But the defence will be working hard to dismiss what you say as pay back - especially after what happened to you in the Lindsay Gless case.’

‘What about Kimberly Rice?’ Peter asked. ‘Have you met with her?’

‘We did. This morning’ Merton responded. ‘She had nothing but good things to say about you, Neal. But the lawyer Wilkes hired is notorious for hitting below the belt and we have a duty to properly prepare you for that cross examination.’

Neal nodded in understanding.

‘We’re going to set you up as if we were in the courtroom’ the man continued, pointing to a chair which had been set up behind a small table. ‘My colleague here has the unenvious task of playing the role of Wilkes’ defence attorney and we’re going to walk both of you through what is likely going to be their line of questioning.’

‘Agent Burke, we can start with you. Of course, your testimony will be limited to the facts surrounding the kidnapping you worked on four years ago’ Merton said. ‘And then, we can take a break and walk you through the questioning, Neal.’

‘Are we ready to start?’

WCWCWC

Hope’s temperature hovered between 101 and 103.5 all day. Sara had been in touch with the paediatrician’s office and she’d been advised to monitor her fever for the time being. Apparently, it was a particularly bad winter for colds and flus and there was no sense in dragging Hope to the hospital unless absolutely necessary. If her fever hit 104, she’d been instructed to have her checked out, otherwise, the important thing was to keep her comfortable, well hydrated and to monitor the situation closely.

She’d managed to get Hope back to sleep with another dose of Tylenol at around 1:00 and she and Elizabeth had spent an hour together, sharing the food El had brought over and commiserating about their husbands being out of town. Unfortunately, El had a meeting mid- afternoon but she promised to be in touch later that evening to see if there was anything Sara needed.

By dinnertime, Sara was exhausted with worry and fatigue, having forced herself to stay awake to keep a vigilant eye on Hope. She began to think ahead to the time Neal would inevitably be calling to read Hope her bedtime story. Should she tell him what was going on? Was there really any point? Sharing the load with him would be great but it wouldn’t do anything to help Hope and it might put him off his game as he prepared for his big day in court.

Shortly before 7:00, Sara carried Hope up to her bedroom and settled her in bed next to her, setting the alarm for 8:00 when she was due for her next dose of medication. She sank down onto her pillow with a long sigh and covered them both up with the warm duvet as she curled up next to Hope. It wasn't long before Sara fell into a deep sleep, up until the shrill sound of the phone caused her to awaken with a start.

WCWCWC

‘You okay?’ Peter asked as they drove back to the hotel in silence.

‘Yeah, yeah’ Neal answered dismissively.

Truth was, he was exhausted from being grilled by Shane Norris, the prosecutor who’d convincingly played the role of Wilkes’ defence attorney in their little session of make believe. His job had been to prepare Neal for the gruelling questions he should expect from Brian Purdy, the highfalutin lawyer Ryan Wilkes had hired. The defence lawyer would be doing his best to portray Neal as an opportunistic criminal whose testimony could not be trusted thus discrediting anything he might have to say about Wilkes.

Norris had pounded away relentlessly at Neal’s role in the crimes the two men had carried out together and he’d tried to depict Neal as someone who wanted vengeance on Wilkes for taking him hostage during the Lindsay Gless case. For a seemingly quiet and unassuming man, Shane Norris’ performance was more than convincing and Peter had joked that he should come back to New York with them and audition for a role on Broadway.

‘It’s going to be fine, Neal’ Peter said reassuringly. ‘Merton said he could re-direct after the defence is done grilling you. That way, he can smooth things out if you get tripped up.’

He glanced over at a worried looking Neal. ‘I’ve seen you talk yourself out of much tougher situations than this’ he reminded his best friend.

Although he wasn't looking forward to the interrogation he was about to undergo, that wasn't was niggling at Neal. Dredging up his past brought back memories he'd much rather forget. It harkened back to a time when he was fixated on the thrill of the con without regard for those who might be hurt by what he was doing. It seemed that the further away he stepped from his previous life, the more uncomfortable he became about some of the cons he’d pulled. Now that he had a family of his own, he often reflected on how _he_ would feel if Sara and Hope or Peter and Elizabeth were the victims of some elaborate con - and he didn't like the feeling, not one bit.

‘I’ll be fine’ Neal said, shaking off the brooding thoughts.

His mind turned to Hope and the story of ‘The Very Hungry Caterpillar’ he would be reading to her as soon as they got back to the hotel. The meeting had run long and he and Peter had decided to pick up some take-out and have dinner in their room in front of the TV so they could relax before their day in court.

‘Why don't I drop you off and I’ll go get us some food - give you a chance to call home?’ Peter suggested as they drove up to the hotel. ‘Chinese okay?’

‘Yeah, sure. Vegetarian spring rolls for me... and some shrimp vermicelli’ Neal said as he stepped out of the car and made his way to the front door of the hotel.

After an afternoon of brutal interrogation, the calm and quiet inside the room was more than welcome and he kicked off his shoes and went straight to his suitcase to grab the children’s book. A smile graced his lips as he thought ahead to hearing the voices of the two ladies in his life and he picked up his phone and settled in on the couch.

‘Hi’ Sara said softly, almost as if she’d been asleep - which of course, she _had_ been.

‘Hey babe’ Neal said, melting at the sound of her voice. ‘Sorry I’m a few minutes late, the meeting ran over.’

‘That’s okay’ she answered as she sat up in bed and tried to get her bearings. ‘How did it go?’

‘Awww. It was long and... brutal and I don't want to talk about it. I would much rather hear about _your_ day’ he said.

Sara sighed. ‘Oh, you know, same old, same old.’

‘So is Hope already tucked into bed and ready for her bedtime story?’ he asked as he opened the book on his lap.

‘Oh, honey, I’m sorry’ she said, her voice shaky. ‘She fell asleep. She was exhausted.’

It wasn't a lie - exactly; just not the _whole_ truth and Sara hoped Neal wouldn't pick up on the slight tremor in her voice.

‘Well, wake her up’ Neal whined, much like a two-year-old himself. ‘I want to say hi.’

‘Neal! Seriously? You want me to wake her up so you can read her a story to put her back to sleep?’ Sara said, trying to keep the mood light.

He chuckled. She was right, of course. The notion was totally ridiculous. Yet, he couldn't help but be disappointed. His nightly phone calls home were the highlight of his day and he’d been looking forward to listening to his baby girl giggle as the hungry caterpillar ate through everything he could find.

‘You’re right... I just miss you guys, that’s all’ he admitted. ‘It’s still snowing on and off here. What about you? Did you ask Jeff to come and shovel the driveway?’

‘Neal! Will you stop trying to micromanage our lives from over there. Everything’s fine, Jeff brought his snow blower over and he shovelled us out’ Sara said, trying to keep her emotions in check.

The truth was she was dying to tell Neal that she and Hope had had the day from hell and that their daughter was lying next to her, sleeping restlessly and running a fever caused by some yet unidentified bug.

‘I wish I was home with the two of you right now’ Neal said wistfully as he let his head drop on the back of the couch.

‘Me too’ she answered - the single most truthful thing she’d said. ‘But you’ll be home soon.’

‘I hope we can get through both our testimonies tomorrow, that way we can head back on Thursday’ Neal added. ‘They’re calling for another big storm to hit on Friday.’

Sara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Even Thursday seemed so far away.

‘Just... just do what you can, honey. That’s all you can do.’

Neal let out a loud sigh. ‘I love you’ he said, his voice melodic.

‘I love you too’ Sara added as Hope began to stir on the bed next to her. ‘Call me tomorrow and let me know how it went, okay?’

‘Okay’ Neal agreed, sounding disappointed. ‘You sure I can’t just tell her goodnight.’

Sara rolled her eyes and brought the phone closer to her daughter’s ear. ‘Okay, go ahead.’

‘Goodnight sweet pea’ Neal murmured as Sara smiled and shook her head. He was such a suck when it came to Hope. ‘I love you baby girl... and I’ll be home soon.’

Sara brought the phone back up to her ear. ‘Is that better?’ she asked with a giggle.

‘Much’ Neal admitted with a smile of his own. ‘Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite.’

Sara let the glow of her conversation with Neal wash over her and she turned to look at Hope who was moving restlessly on the bed - not the usual kicking around in her sleep but a never before seen thrashing movement that seemed to intensify as the seconds passed.

‘Hope!’ Sara called out as she tried to wake her daughter.

Hope’s body continued to move violently on the bed, her head moving back and forth, her body twitching as her eyes flew open, rolling back in her head.

‘Hope!’ Sara screamed again.

WCWCWC

Peter stepped into the room, arms loaded up with food and spied Neal, pouting on the couch.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ he asked.

‘Nothing’ Neal said, sounding like a spoiled brat.

‘What?’ Peter teased. ‘Hope didn't like her bedtime story?’

‘She was already asleep’ Neal griped as he stood and walked over to the desk to grab the ice bucket.

He gave Peter an exaggerated pout and a shrug. ‘I’ll go get us some ice’ he announced as he walked towards the door.

‘Okay, don’t be long. The food’ll get cold’ Peter warned as he watched Neal leave.

WCWCWC

The elevator door was already open and Neal hurried in, pushing the button for the first floor. The lobby was quiet at this hour and he sauntered past the empty coffee shop and the small gym and into the tiny room which housed a couple of vending machines and an ice machine.

He’d just started to fill the bucket, still brooding, when he felt a presence lurking behind him.

‘I’ll be just a minute’ he muttered without bothering to turn around.

He could feel the presence closing in on him and the next thing he knew, he was being grabbed from both sides by strong arms, the ice bucket slipping from his hands as it clattered loudly on the floor.

‘What the...’

Neal glanced over to his right, seeing a large bald man with a big black moustache pulling him towards him while a second pair of arms held him back.

‘Caffrey!’ the man mumbled as he slammed his beefy fist straight into Neal’s stomach. ‘I have a message from Wilkes.’

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Peter took another bite of mo shu pork and washed it down greedily with a gulp of beer. It had been a long and exhausting day, especially for Neal who had endured the third degree from prosecutor Shane Norris. Peter could tell Neal had been uncomfortable with the questions thrown at him. They were riddled with insinuations and downright accusations that Neal’s motivation for testifying was based on revenge rather than any real sense of justice for the accused’s alleged crime.

Overall, Neal had handled himself with his usual composure and self-confidence although Peter knew him well enough to spot the cracks in his armour, those little tells that very few people besides himself - and maybe Sara Ellis - could detect from underneath Neal’s well crafted veneer. There was the almost imperceptible shift of his eyes, the clearing of his throat and the courteous - albeit insincere - smiles as he struggled to remain calm and focussed.

Since Hope’s birth, the changes in Neal had become obvious to anyone who knew him. He had pulled away from the illicit activities he’d previously been involved in, preferring to channel his impulses and irrepressible urges through Mozzie’s clandestine pursuits. Sure, he still got that mischievous twinkle in his eye and he still tried to outsmart Peter every chance he got - like that cockamamie stunt with the two-headed coin he’d just tried to pull - but it was harmless fun, just a way to keep his skills sharp and indulge some of his impulses without any harm coming to anyone. These days, Neal knew better than to get involved directly in any criminal activity, preferring to take a back seat and act as consultant on some of Mozzie’s schemes, hence, managing to keep his nose clean.

Peter was aware that the transition from debonair conman to upstanding citizen, loving husband and devoted father had not been an easy one for Neal Caffrey. As much as his ex-CI was settled and happy in his new life, there would always be a longing for the con and that euphoric exhilaration as he outsmarted all those around him, a restlessness Neal still struggled to control in favour of something he longed for even more: sharing his life with the woman he loved and the little girl who had stolen his heart.

Peter glanced over at Neal’s still untouched plate. What was taking him so long? He grabbed the phone from his pocket and dialled Neal’s number only to hear his phone ring on the small table by the couch. He tried to reason with himself. How much trouble could Caffrey possibly get into between their hotel room door and the ice machine down on the first floor?

He shook his head knowingly - after all, this _was_ Neal Caffrey and trouble always had a way of finding him, wherever he went.

Peter stood and took one last sip of his beer before grabbing his room key and heading out to find his partner.

WCWCWC

‘She’s fine, Mrs. Caffrey’ the paramedic said as she brought her hand to rest on Sara’s back. ‘We’ll have her checked out at the hospital but it’s likely just a febrile seizure.’

‘What’s t-t-that?’ Sara responded with a stutter. Her body hadn't stopped shaking since she’d placed the call to 911.

She watched, eyes wide as Hope’s tiny body finally relaxed as she slept peacefully on the gurney. She was strapped in securely and she’d been wrapped in a warm flannel blanket that dwarfed her minuscule form even more on the large makeshift bed.

‘It happens sometimes to young children when they have a sudden spike in temperature’ the young woman explained. ‘Is there someone you can call to come and be with you at the hospital?’

Sara’s mind spun out of control. Neal…

‘Yes’ she said tentatively. ‘Hope’s godmother...’

‘Would you like us to call her for you?’ the woman asked kindly as her partner began to push the gurney towards the front door.

‘No, no. It’s okay’ Sara began. ‘Wait! You’re not taking her away, are you?’ she added in a panic as if she hadn’t heard anything the paramedic had said.

‘You can ride with us in the ambulance if you like’ the EMT said. ‘But you won't have your car.’

‘That’s okay’ Sara responded breathlessly. ‘I want to stay with her.’

‘All right, well then, get your purse and your coat’ the woman said as if she were speaking to a three-year-old child. She’d seen enough people in shock to recognize the signs and this distressed mom was _definitely_ in shock.

Sara moved by rote, picking up her purse and throwing on her coat as she followed her daughter out the door and into the waiting ambulance. She could see a couple of neighbours peeking out their windows, curiosity getting the better of them. After all, it wasn't every day an ambulance was parked in their quiet White Plains neighbourhood.

Although she’d remained relatively calm during Hope’s seizure, Sara had begun to fall apart the moment the EMTs had arrived. The convulsions, which had come on suddenly, had lasted a good two to three minutes although it had felt much, much longer. Sara had watched, panicked, as Hope’s little body shook uncontrollably, her arms and legs flailing and her eyes rolling back in her head. She was terrified her baby girl was dying and she couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it. The shaking had ended as suddenly as it had begun and Sara had managed to keep her wits about her long enough to pick up the phone and call for an ambulance. As she’d waited for them to arrive, Hope had opened her eyes, looking up innocently at her mom before falling asleep, her body limp and her breathing regular once more.

Now that her daughter was safely in the care of professionals, Sara began to breathe normally again as she watched the paramedics monitor Hope’s breathing and other vital signs on the way to the hospital.

Once settled at the head of the gurney, Sara reached into her purse for her phone and watched her hands shake uncontrollably as she pressed 2 on speed dial, summoning her best friend. She had a fleeting appreciation for the feature on her phone, considering that in the heat of the moment, she couldn't for the life of her recall the Burkes’ phone number. She let out a sigh as the answering machine came on and she stuttered something about El coming to meet her at White Plains Hospital.

Then, having caught her breath, she leaned down to place a soft kiss on her little girl’s forehead.

WCWCWC

The hotel lobby was quiet and Peter began to poke around the various rooms on the first floor on his quest for Neal. There was no sign of him anywhere and Peter walked over to the reception desk to speak to the young woman who stood there, talking animatedly on the phone.

He recognized her from earlier in the day. ’Have you seen Mr. Caffrey?’ he asked as she hung up. ‘You know, the man...’

‘Mr. Caffrey? Yeah, I know who he is’ she said with a knowing smile. Once most women laid eyes on Neal Caffrey, he was hard to forget. ‘I saw him head down the hall towards the gym a little while ago.’

Peter nodded in thanks and headed down the corridor, making his way to the small room with the ice machine. Instead of just glancing in this time, he stepped inside the room, noticing an ice bucket which had been kicked off to the side and some ice melting into a nice big puddle on the floor. His spidey senses tingled despite himself and he began to search the area more thoroughly, noticing that the door at the end of the corridor, which led to the back of the building, was slightly ajar.

Curiosity got the better of him and he headed down the short hallway, suddenly apprehensive as to what he might find. He reached the door, feeling the cold rush of winter air on his face.

His eyes roamed the parking lot and he spotted Neal almost immediately, his motionless body lying in a snowbank a few feet from the door, in nothing but pants and shirtsleeves.

‘Neal!’ he called out as the younger man remained motionless, his body in stark contrast to the whiteness of the newly fallen snow.

‘Neal’ he repeated as he ran towards him, dropping to his knees in order to better assess the situation. Neal stirred for a brief moment and tried to mumble something as he looked up at Peter, confused and shaking. His face was bloody and his half-lidded eyes fought to remain open as Peter spoke.

‘What happened?’ Peter asked, more for form than anything else. Neal was in no condition to respond and Peter instinctively grabbed for the phone in his pocket and called for help. He watched as his best friend’s eyes fluttered shut once again, his body shaking violently against the wintry night air.

‘Come on buddy, let’s get you inside’ Peter murmured as he leaned down and tried to rouse Neal - sadly, without success.

Despite the fact he was unconscious, Neal let out a moan as Peter attempted to lift his dead weight and drag him the few feet back into the hotel, away from the harsh elements. Breathing heavily, Peter managed to haul him just inside the door, setting him down where he could get a better look at him. Neal’s face was covered in blood and his left eye swollen almost beyond recognition. Peter winced as he took in the damage to his best friend’s handsome features and he began to poke around, gently lifting Neal’s shirt to check for any other obvious signs of trauma. He let out a gasp as he spotted marks already appearing on his stomach and he heard Neal whimpering softly as he accidentally jostled him.

‘Can I get some help over here!’ Peter yelled at the top of his lungs as a young couple happened by. ‘Can you get me a blanket? I think he’s in shock’ he added as the woman ran to find something to cover up the injured man.

‘What happened?’ the man asked, hovering nearby. ‘Do you need me to call an ambulance?’

‘Already did’ Peter mumbled as he pulled out his badge and flashed it at the man. ‘Can you go to the front and direct the EMTs when they arrive?’ he asked just as the man’s wife reappeared carrying a warm wool blanket.

Peter wasted no time in covering Neal’s shaking body and he watched as Neal’s eyes drifted open, his mouth silently trying to form words.

‘It’s okay, buddy. Help is on the way. Don’t try to talk’ Peter said soothingly.

He could see Neal, shaking his head, trying desperately to say something and he ran his hand over Neal’s arm, urging him to be quiet. That only seemed to further agitate Neal who grabbed for Peter’s shirt, pulling him in closer.

‘Sar... El’ he murmured as Peter’s eyes narrowed.

‘It’s okay Neal. Sara and El are fine. Let me take care of you’ Peter insisted as Neal’s breathing began to accelerate and he let out a heart wrenching groan.

‘NO!’ Neal attempted, once again.

The effort required to let out the guttural scream totally drained him of the little bit of energy he had left and Neal fell back, limp, his eyes fluttering shut.

WCWCWC

‘Oh, thank God you’re here!’ Sara exclaimed as Elizabeth Burke appeared.

‘Honey, I’m sorry. My meeting ran late’ El said as she hugged her friend. ‘Is she alright?’

‘It’s okay’ Sara said breathlessly, holding on tight. ‘She’s fine. I’m just glad you’re here.’

The women took a seat, side by side in the small waiting room a few feet from where Hope was being examined by the emergency doctor on duty.

‘She had a seizure’ Sara explained as El looked on, mouth agape. ‘The doctor says it can happen with babies and toddlers... when their fever spikes.’

Now that Hope was in good hands, Sara seemed to relax and she began to cry softly as she searched El’s eyes. ‘It was horrible. She started to shake and her eyes... I couldn't get her to wake up. El, I thought she was going to die.’

Elizabeth held her close, her hand running up and down Sara’s arm. ‘It’s okay, honey.’

Sara caught her breath and wiped her eyes. ‘I still don't know why her fever is so high.’

‘Don’t worry. Now that you’re here, they’ll run some tests and we’ll find out what’s going on’ El said reassuringly.

Sara nodded and smiled. ‘I’m so glad you’re here’ she repeated just as the doctor stepped out from the examination room.

‘Mrs. Caffrey’ he said as Sara did a double take in response to the name she didn't use very often. ‘Your daughter is fine. She’s sleeping soundly and her fever has dropped for the time being. We’re just waiting on some test results but I’m reasonably sure she has strep throat.’

Sara listened, eyes wide.

‘It’s a bacterial infection that causes inflammation and pain in the throat. It can be quite painful but easily treatable with antibiotics. How long has she been running a fever?’ he asked.

‘Well, she wasn’t feeling well last night but I only really noticed it this morning.’ Sara replied.

The man took a seat across from the women and leaned in. ‘Tell me about what happened just before the seizure’ he said.

Sara’s eyes narrowed as she thought back to the few minutes before Hope had begun to convulse as they both lay on the bed together.

‘We were lying together in my bed and... all of a sudden, she just started to twitch and her arms and legs were moving... She wasn't responding when I talked to her but her eyes opened and they rolled back in her head...’

‘Was she bundled up in bed?’ he asked.

‘Yes. She was covered in a duvet.’

‘And how long had it been since her last dose of Tylenol?’

Sara tried to concentrate, everything was so jumbled up in her mind. ‘She was due for another dose in about half an hour.’

The man nodded and smiled gently.

‘Why are you asking me these question?’ Sara asked, worry returning.

‘I just want to rule out any other reason for the seizure but what you’ve said is consistent with a febrile seizure. Her last dose of medication had worn off and because she was bundled up, her fever spiked and that’s what brought on the convulsion.’

‘Will it... cause any long term effects?’ Sara asked, afraid of the answer.

‘Not at all’ the doctor said reassuringly. ‘Febrile seizures happen more often than you’d expect and there are no long term effects. About five percent of all children get them between birth and five years of age.’

‘Them? Does that mean she might have another one?’ Sara asked, suddenly panicked.

The doctor answered calmly, intent on reassuring this young mom who was obviously worried about her little girl. ‘Not necessarily. But if a child _does_ have a febrile seizure, she’s more at risk of having another in the future. Most kids outgrow them completely by the age of five, though.’

Sara’s face tensed as she imagined having to go through something like that again.

‘You can try to prevent them by keeping her fever in check but they can occur even with a low- grade fever’ he explained patiently. He watched as Sara’s eyes narrowed in worry. ‘You did the right thing, calling an ambulance and keeping her from injuring herself while she was having the seizure. That’s pretty well all you can do.’

‘So, what about strep throat?’ Sara asked.

’It’s a very painful infection but the antibiotics usually kick in within forty-eight hours and she’ll feel much better after that. I assume you’ve been the one caring for her?’ he asked as Sara nodded.

‘Well, it’s a highly communicable infection’ he explained. ‘Who else lives in your home? Do you have other children?’

‘No, just... me and my husband but he’s away on business right now.’ Sara said as she glanced over at Elizabeth.

‘The incubation period is two to five days. How long has he been away?’ the doctor asked.

‘Since yesterday morning’ Sara answered. ‘What does that mean?’

‘It means that both of you have been exposed and that you should keep an eye out for a sore throat and fever. I’ll do a swab on you right now if you like and we can see if you’ve contracted it. When is your husband due back?’ he asked.

‘I’m not sure... before the weekend’ Sara said, now growing worried about Neal as well.

‘You should both be careful about spreading germs in the meantime. It can be transmitted by coughing, sharing utensils and the like. Just be on the lookout for symptoms.’

‘Can you just give us some antibiotics as well, just in case?’ Sara asked, thinking of Neal sharing a room with Peter.

‘Because of all the antibiotic resistant superbugs out there, we don’t give them unless it’s necessary but in your case, we’ll know with a throat swab. Just remember to finish the whole course of antibiotics - even if Hope is feeling better.’

‘All right. Does she have to stay here... in the hospital?’ Sara asked. The last thing she wanted was to spend the night sitting on a hard chair, watching her daughter sleep.

‘Not necessarily, if you follow instructions carefully, you can take her home tonight. Just try to keep her fever under control, give her lots of liquids, and before you know it, she’ll be running circles around you again.’

Sara smiled and nodded, relieved. ‘Thank you, thank you doctor.’

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

The _good_ news was that Neal hadn't regained consciousness on the way to the hospital.

The _bad_ news was that Neal hadn't regained consciousness on the way to the hospital.

Peter had seen the look of pain and anguish on his best friend’s face as he'd briefly opened his eyes and he was relieved that, upon the arrival of the EMTs, they’d immediately administered something to ease the obvious agony he was in. But the fact that he remained unconscious on the way to the hospital spoke volumes about the severity of the injuries Neal had suffered at the hands of his attackers.

Peter sat in the ambulance alongside Neal, his mind spinning in a million different directions. Had this been a random mugging or was it, as he feared, linked to Wilkes somehow? How would this affect their scheduled testimony? Would Neal’s injuries keep them in Lansing for longer than expected? How serious were his injuries and how soon would he recover? And what about Sara? How would he break the news to her that her husband was in hospital after a brutal beating?

One of the first things Peter had done was to check if Neal’s wallet was still in his pocket - which it was, along with $137 in cash as well as his bank card and credit cards. Whatever the motivation for the assault, it didn't appear to be robbery and it was a short leap to speculate that the attack might be linked to the very reason they were in Lansing in the first place. From what they knew about Ryan Wilkes, he had many associates within the crime syndicate he’d built over the years and it wasn't much of a stretch to imagine that he might have ordered this brutal assault on Neal as a means to silence him or at the very least, influence his testimony.

Seeing Neal lying there, motionless, looking so unlike his usually animated self, was disturbing to say the least and Peter exchanged a worried look with the EMT who sat next to Neal, monitoring his vital signs.

‘How is he?’ Peter asked.

‘His vitals are good. We’re just keeping him sedated until the doctors have a chance to properly examine him’ the young man said, his reply noncommittal.

Peter frowned as he studied Neal’s strained features once more. Now that his face had been cleansed from all that excess blood, he could see that most of it emanated from a large gash over his eye, the same eye that was swollen practically shut. He had obviously been hit repeatedly in the face as well as in the stomach and the unspoken concern was that he might have suffered some internal injuries which weren’t immediately visible to the naked eye. Adding to his physical state and the inevitable shock was the likelihood that Neal was suffering from hypothermia and the paramedics had immediately begun treatment by wrapping him in warm blankets with hot water bottles in order to bring his body temperature back to normal as he shivered on the gurney.

Peter cursed under his breath; at first, he hadn't been terribly worried when Neal hadn't immediately returned to the room. He was a grown man after all and for all Peter knew, he might have stopped for a few minutes to chat with the young woman at the reception desk or gotten sidetracked by a headline in the newspaper prominently displayed in the lobby. Neal still had the impulse control of a four-year-old and Peter wasn’t his keeper - well, at least not anymore. Now, he regretted not investigating sooner. How long had Neal been lying in that snowbank in below freezing temperatures before he’d finally decided to go looking for him?

As the fog lifted, Peter’s mind returned to the brief exchange he’d had with Neal as he’d lay, shaking violently in his arms. Something was nagging at him and he wasn't sure what it was. Neal had tried to tell him something. Had it been delirium? Or was there some imminent danger Neal was trying to warn him about?

The ambulance came to an abrupt stop and Peter looked out the window, spotting the large sign for the emergency room of the local hospital and he braced himself for what was to come.

WCWCWC

‘I really appreciate you coming home with us’ Sara said, thoroughly exhausted from the long day.

It was almost 11:00 and long past her bedtime; having Elizabeth offer to spend the night at the house was a huge relief as she faced a night of monitoring Hope’s fever and keeping her well hydrated. Truth was, beyond the crippling fatigue, she’d begun to notice a tickle at the back of her throat and she hoped it was just medical students’ disease, her imagination playing tricks on her.

The car pulled into the driveway on Meadowbrook Street and El stepped out, insisting on carrying Hope into the house, something Sara’s tired body just couldn't manage on its own.

The women headed straight upstairs and Hope was settled into her parents’ bed while Sara and Elizabeth changed the sheets in Hope’s room where El would be spending the night. That way, she could be close by in case Sara needed her, hopefully a mere precaution.

‘Honey, try to get some sleep’ El said as she hugged her best friend and sent her off to bed. ‘Call if you need anything and I’ll be in there in two seconds flat.’

Sara smiled, comfort replacing the worry that had been nagging at her for the past several hours. ‘Thanks El. I really appreciate this.’

She made her way to her own room, perched her tired body on the edge of the bed and, gazing down at her daughter, she ran her hand through Hope’s soft, dark curls. She was sound asleep, looking angelic, almost as if nothing had happened, and Sara touched her forehead, noticing it was nice and cool. She changed out of her clothes, removed her wig, replacing it with her warm woolen cap and she fell into bed with a thud. Her thoughts turned to Neal. He would be testifying in the morning and if all went well, he and Peter could be back in New York as early as Thursday night. She briefly debated the merits of calling him first thing in the morning but thought better of it; might as well wait until their usual check-in the following evening to finally fess up about what had been going on at home. There was nothing Neal could do from Lansing and finding out Hope was sick would only distract him from the important job he’d been tasked with.

She coughed roughly, feeling the tightness in her throat; dammit, was she coming down with strep as well? The emergency room doctor had promised to call in the morning with the result of her throat swab. Her purse held a couple of prescriptions, one for her and a second for Neal - in the eventuality that he was hit with the painful, yet mostly benign, ailment.

Fatigue trumped worry and within moments, Sara was sound asleep.

WCWCWC

‘Hello?’ came the sleepy voice on the other end of the line.

‘Jones, it’s me’ Peter murmured. ‘I’m sorry to wake you up so late.’

Clinton Jones was instantly sitting up in bed and reaching for the bedside lamp. It was past midnight and if Peter was calling him from out of town, something had to be seriously wrong.

‘It’s okay. What’s going on?’ he asked, suddenly on high alert.

‘I’m at the hospital... with Neal’ Peter stated as he paced right outside Neal’s room, glancing in every few seconds.

‘Caffrey’s in the hospital?’ Jones repeated. ‘What happened?’

‘He was roughed up pretty bad earlier tonight’ Peter explained, worry obvious in his voice.

‘Roughed up?’ Jones echoed, still trying to put the pieces together.

‘He was attacked right outside our hotel, beaten up pretty badly...’

Jones listened, his face serious as Peter continued.

‘He hasn't regained consciousness but before he passed out, he tried to tell me something. At first, I thought he was just being delusional but now...’

‘What is it, Peter? What did he say?’ Jones asked, now moving around the room and searching for clothes.

Whatever Peter had to tell him, it would require action on his part - otherwise, his boss would have waited until morning to call him.

‘He talked about Sara and El...’ Peter said, still wondering if he was overreacting.

Jones frowned; he couldn't see the connection. ’What do you mean?’

‘This wasn't a random assault. I’m reasonably sure this was intended as a warning to keep him from testifying against Wilkes tomorrow and I suspect that whoever did this to Neal warned him that harm might come to El and Sara if he went through with it.’

Jones didn't need to have things explained any further. He knew what his boss was asking. ‘I’ll get a detail over to both houses right away’ he said as he pulled on a pair of pants.

‘Oh... and Jones’ Peter continued. ‘Don’t tell them tonight. I’ll call El myself and explain.’

‘Sure thing. I’m on it, Peter’ Jones said, already halfway out the door.

WCWCWC

‘NO!’ Sara screamed as she woke with a start.

She sat up in bed, totally disoriented, as Hope stirred next to her and began to cry loudly. Within seconds, Elizabeth was standing over both of them, her heart beating wildly.

‘What is it? What’s going on?’ she asked breathlessly as Sara came to.

Sara’s breathing was laboured and her eyes wild and with Hope howling from having been awakened from a deep sleep, inevitably, chaos ensued.

‘Hope, sweetie’ El said as she reached down to pick up her goddaughter and cradle her in her arms. ‘It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ Sara mumbled, her nightmare finally beginning to fade. ‘I just.... I had a bad dream.’

El sat on the edge of the bed, holding Hope with one arm as she reached out to touch Sara’s forehead.

‘Oh, honey, you’re burning up’ she commented as she felt the heat radiating off her best friend.

Now that she was fully awake, Sara could feel the rawness in her throat - as if she’d swallowed a sheet of sandpaper.

‘Yeah’ she admitted. ‘I don't feel very well.’

Hope’s crying began to subside and she watched her mom’s face with interest.

‘Mama, bobo?’ she asked.

Sara nodded and reached out to touch her baby girl. ‘Yes, baby. Mommy has a bobo too.’

Elizabeth Burke sprung into action and before long, she’d given both Hope and Sara a dose of Tylenol and had administered Hope’s antibiotic before tucking them back under the blankets as calm slowly returned to the Caffrey house.

She made her way back to Hope’s room and lay on the bed, noticing the message light flashing on her cell phone.

WCWCWC

Sara lay in bed, eyes wide open. She doubted she’d get back to sleep following her nightmare which had only been exacerbated by the high fever she was running. Seeing Janet’s face, emaciated, as she lay on her deathbed, was a recurring theme of the unsettling dreams and Sara let out a soft moan as she envisioned Janet staring up at her, pleading silently for help while Sara stared back at her dying friend, feeling totally powerless.

She replayed the dream in her fevered mind, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Hope had resumed her peaceful slumber and Sara turned over to face her, pressing her warm body against her daughter’s and feeling the coolness of her skin against her own.

Despite the troubling images, the medication began to kick in and Sara Ellis found herself drifting into an uneasy sleep.

WCWCWC

‘Peter?’ Elizabeth whispered.

Peter stood from Neal’s bedside, giving him a last wistful look as he stepped out of his hospital room and hovered in the nearby hallway.

‘Hon, I’m so glad to hear your voice’ he said.

‘Honey, it’s two in the morning’ she stated unnecessarily. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’m fine, El, I’m fine’ he said, hoping to reassure her.

She waited for more. ‘It’s Neal...’ he said, his voice trailing as he thought carefully about his choice of words. ‘He’s... he’s in the hospital. He was beaten earlier tonight.’

‘Beaten?’ Elizabeth said, conscious that she’d raised her voice.

Despite the fact that she’d closed the bedroom door before picking up the phone, she didn’t want Sara to hear what was going on.

‘How? Why? How bad?’ she asked, the questions multiplying in her mind.

‘He stepped out of our hotel room to get some ice and... well, I found him beaten up in the parking lot, unconscious.’

‘Oh, my god’ El whispered. ‘How bad is it?’

Peter measured his words carefully attempting to communicate the seriousness of Neal’s situation without causing undue panic.

‘The doctor says he was lucky. He doesn't have any internal injuries but he's got a concussion, a couple of bruised ribs and his face... well, it took quite a beating. His nose is broken and he has a gash over one of his eyes.’

‘Is he conscious?’ she asked, sitting bolt upright in bed.

‘No’ Peter answered as he peeked in again to check on Neal. ‘He hasn't regained consciousness yet but the doctors are confident he’ll pull through.’

‘I can’t believe it. What are the chances he'd get mugged in your hotel’ she asked rhetorically.

‘Honey, that’s just it. I don’t think this was a random mugging. I think this might be Wilkes sending us a warning’ he finally admitted out loud.

‘What? Oh, honey you need to come home’ she said spontaneously although she knew better than to expect Peter to step back from doing the right thing.

‘El, we can’t let Wilkes intimidate us like this’ Peter said, knowing full well the implications of what he was saying. ‘But you need to know something else...’

What else could there possibly be? What Peter had just told her was terrible and she couldn’t imagine any more bad news.

‘Hon, before Neal passed out, he was... well, he was really agitated and he said Sara’s name... and yours.’

Elizabeth Burke had shared her life with an FBI agent long enough to be able to read between the lines.

‘You think Wilkes threatened to do something to... us?’ El asked nervously.

‘Honey, I don't know... Until I can talk to Neal, I can’t know for sure but knowing Neal the way I do...’

Elizabeth listened, speechless.

‘I want you to look out our bedroom window’ Peter instructed.

‘Honey, I’m not home’ El said. ‘I’m at Neal and Sara’s.’

Now it was Peter’s turn to react. ’What? Why? What’s going on?’

‘Oh, Peter’ she began. ‘It’s been a rough couple of days. Hope got sick and we ended up in emergency. She’s got strep throat and she had a seizure - ’

‘What?’ Peter said, his voice loud.

‘Honey, she’s fine. They started her on antibiotics and the seizure was because her fever spiked... but now, Sara’s got it too and I didn't want to leave her alone.’

She could hear Peter’s loud breathing over the phone line. ‘Peter... it’s fine, don’t worry.’

That was easier said than done and Peter glanced into Neal’s room, noticing his best friend stirring.

‘El, I think Neal’s coming to’ he said. ‘I don’t think you should tell Sara yet, not until I can talk to him. I just wanted to tell you that Jones has some men parked outside both our place and Neal and Sara’s. Go check... and don't be scared. It’s just a precaution but Jones has it under control... maybe just... don’t go out until I call you back, okay?’

Elizabeth opened the bedroom door and tiptoed to the front of the house which housed Neal’s studio. She peered out the second floor window, immediately spotting the black car parked two doors down.

‘I see them’ she told her husband.

‘Honey’ Peter said, his voice urgent. ‘I’ve got to go. I love you’ he said before hanging up.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Elizabeth Burke felt the weight of the world on her shoulders. Not only was she concerned about the welfare of her best friend and her beautiful goddaughter, she was now privy to some very disturbing information - that the three of them might become the next targets of the violent criminal who had brutally attacked Neal and left him for dead in a snowbank.

But, most of all, she was worried about Neal’s wellbeing and how she would break the news of the beating to his wife, at a time when she was at her most vulnerable.

She tossed and turned in bed as she’d done so many times before during her fifteen year marriage to Special Agent Peter Burke. Her husband never shied away from danger and he always stood up resolutely against any kind of injustice, no matter what the cost. But with her safety as well as the safety of Hope and Sara on the line, she knew he would be struggling with what to do in order to keep everyone safe.

El thought briefly of the major charity event she was organizing, now just a week away. She still had so much to do before the big night but it all seemed so unimportant in light of the events of the last few hours. She would have to delegate some of those tasks to her staff - at least in the short term. Her priorities had unexpectedly shifted from work to keeping the three of them safe until this whole mess was over - and she needed to do that without alarming Sara more than was absolutely necessary.

Sara Ellis was a strong, resilient woman and a dear friend whom Elizabeth had relied on many times in the past for sage advice and support. But this time, it was El’s turn to be the strong one. Seeing her best friend looking so vulnerable as she lay there with a raging fever had been a stark reminder that even a woman as tough as Sara needed someone to rely on when things got rough. Throughout her illness, Sara had fought hard to hide her vulnerabilities and she’d been unrelenting, putting up a front as she carried on fearlessly with the battle she’d been forced to engage in. Now that her cancer treatments had ended, she’d reverted to being her previously gutsy self and it was easy to forget that she was still fragile as she recuperated from months of being poked and prodded. Now, with Hope sick and Neal away, it was incumbent on Elizabeth to step up and help her best friend with all the craziness around them - a responsibility Mrs. Burke took very seriously.

She lay in bed, mentally rehearsing how she would inform Sara about Neal’s predicament. Over the years, Peter had often been put in dangerous situations and El knew damn well that if she were to learn that he’d been brutally beaten, they would need to tie her down and lock her up to keep her from finding her way to him. Sara’s devotion to her husband was no less staunch and she knew that when she broke the news to her, Sara’s initial reaction would be to want to jump on a plane to be with Neal. But with Hope sick and her own health on the decline, that would be impossible. She could barely get her head off the pillow, let alone stand upright long enough to board a flight. El would have to couch the news of Neal’s injuries in optimism, although she wasn't even sure herself how Neal was _really_ doing - or what his prognosis was.

Her mind churned as she tossed in bed, sleep remaining elusive. All she knew was that it was up to her to take the lead and help them navigate the next few days.

WCWCWC

Peter stared out the hospital room window, noticing the sun beginning to rise over the horizon. After a couple of days of steady snowfall, the weather forecast was calling for arctic cold temperatures and clear blue skies. He had a sudden and unbidden flashback, seeing Neal lying inert in the snow, his body shivering and his face bloodied. As if to reassure himself, he turned around, letting his gaze settle on the lying form on the nearby hospital bed.

Neal had stirred several times over the past hour, moaning what amounted to be not much more than gibberish but he had yet to open his eyes and Peter was growing more and more impatient to see Neal’s baby blues peeking out from under those dark eyelashes so he could be reassured that, somehow, things were going to be all right.

Sadly, this wasn't the first time he’d sat by Neal’s side in a hospital room. During the Marnie James case, Neal had infiltrated the restoration crew at the MoMA and he’d been pistol whipped during the takedown, ending up with multiple face lacerations. Then, there was the takedown in the Moretti case when Sara had first been pregnant - that time, he’d gotten dinged by a bullet to the shoulder just as the FBI stormed in, with seconds to spare. Both times, his hospital stay had been limited to a few hours but Peter feared that, this time, he might be in hospital for a couple of days while he recuperated from his injuries.

Peter’s eyes studied Neal’s battered face. A bandage covered the cut above his left eye and his eye and nose were discoloured and swollen, robbing him of his usual good looks. His chest was tightly wrapped to keep his battered ribs from jostling when he moved, something that would take more than a couple of days to heal properly.

A smile crossed Peter’s lips as he recalled Neal’s incessant blathering and relentless, yet good natured, ribbing on the drive up. Was that really the same man who was now lying motionless on the bed, looking as pale as a ghost? He gave a small chuckle at the recollection and brought his hand to rest on Neal’s forehead, carefully avoiding the bandage over his left eye. His hand moved to gently caress Neal’s hair as he swallowed hard. Neal had a trusting nature and tended to see the best in people. That and his inability to reign in his impulses had made him an easy target for the thugs who’d attacked him. The more Peter thought about what Wilkes had done, the angrier he got and the more determined he became to call the man out and stand up to him for this vicious attack.

He’d already been on the phone with Merton from the DA’s office and the man had agreed to come to the hospital first thing in the morning to discuss the fallout from this unexpected - and unfortunate - turn of events. Decisions needed to be made regarding Peter and Neal’s scheduled testimonies and Merton was keen to work with local authorities to help identify Neal’s attackers and their likely link to the man himself, Ryan Wilkes.

Peter glanced at his watch; Merton would be arriving momentarily. He felt movement under his hand and his eyes returned to Neal’s swollen face, watching as the younger man attempted to force his eyes open.

‘Peter...’ he croaked, his voice barely audible.

‘Hey buddy!’ Peter said with a sigh of relief. ‘You’re awake!’

‘Peter...’ Neal repeated as he tried to sit up, falling back almost immediately as he winced in pain. ‘Wilkes...’

Peter’s hand was instantly on his best friend’s arm, holding him in place on the bed. ‘It’s okay, buddy, it’s okay. Just...just lie still for a minute.’

‘No’ Neal argued weakly. ‘...don’t understand…’

‘Neal, it’s alright. Just take it easy, okay?’ Peter said, growing worried.

‘It was Wilkes, Peter...’ Neal managed to say as his eyes fluttered shut. ‘It was Wilkes...’

‘I know, Neal. Can you remember what happened?’ Peter asked patiently.

‘There were...’ Neal grunted. ‘There were two of them... warning.... not to testify...’

Peter waited as Neal caught his breath. He watched a shadow pass over Neal’s face as he seemed to remember something else the thugs had said.

‘Sara... and El... he’s gonna... gonna hurt them...’ Neal said, his voice panicked, as he suddenly recalled his attackers’ dire warnings of retaliation if he and Peter went through with their testimonies.

He made a clumsy attempt at pushing Peter’s hand away in order to sit up as Peter held him down, without much effort considering how feeble Neal was in his present state.

‘It’s okay, Neal, it’s okay. We’re on it. I’ve already called Jones. Sara and Elizabeth are fine, they’re both fine’ Peter said soothingly.

His words seemed to reassure Neal, at least momentarily, and Peter felt Neal’s body relax under his hand, his eyes drifting shut. Neal mumbled something indecipherable before growing silent and Peter realized he’d passed out once again.

WCWCWC

Elizabeth felt the vibration of her cell phone on her stomach and realized that, against all odds, she’d somehow managed to drift off for a few minutes.

‘Peter!’ she said, breathlessly as she picked up.

‘Hi hon’ he replied, his voice full of emotion.

‘How is he?’ she asked, sitting bolt upright in Hope’s bed.

‘He opened his eyes a few minutes ago so that’s encouraging...’ Peter began, his voice rough. ‘But he’s pretty beaten up and it’ll take a few days for him to get back on his feet. How are things going at your end?’

‘I still haven't told Sara what happened’ Elizabeth admitted. ‘But I can’t keep her in the dark forever. She’ll be waking up soon.’

‘How are they? Hope and Sara?’ Peter asked.

‘I checked on them about an hour ago. They’re both asleep but restless. Honey, I’m going to have to tell her everything. Sara’s not stupid, she’ll know something’s wrong when she doesn't hear from Neal in the morning.’

Peter nodded. ‘Just... try to keep her from freaking out. Listen honey, Jones is going to come to the front door in a few minutes. I want you to go down and talk to him, let him know what’s going on.’

‘Okay’ Elizabeth responded dutifully. ‘Honey, what about you? If these thugs did this to Neal... who knows what they could do to you.’

‘Don’t worry about me. The DA’s on his way over and we’ll discuss strategy’ Peter reassured her.

‘Are you still going to testify today?’ she asked, knowing full well the answer.

Peter hesitated for a moment; despite what his wife would have _liked_ him to respond, he knew that she was aware of what he _would_ say - and do. ‘El, we can't let this guy get away with this. I have to stand up to him. For everything he did... and for Neal.’

‘I know but... he seems to have an awfully long reach’ she commented, obviously worried.

‘Well, so does the FBI’ he reminded her. ‘Look, I’ll call you as soon as I have more news. And honey, be careful. Don’t go anywhere without letting Jones know where you’re going and... keep your eyes open for anything suspicious.’

His comments were met with silence, a sign that Elizabeth was feeling apprehensive.

‘El, the threats... they’re just another way to try to keep us quiet. Chances are slim they’ll act on them.’

‘I know’ she said, trying to sound brave. ‘Honey... I love you.’

‘Love you too’ he replied before hanging up.

WCWCWC

‘Was that your wife?’ Geoffrey Merton asked as he appeared in the doorway to Neal’s hospital room.

Peter scoffed and raised his eyebrows. ‘It’s hard for her not to worry’ he admitted.

‘I get it’ he said. ‘I’m not on the front lines of law enforcement like you are but my wife still tells me to be careful every morning when I leave the house. Let’s just say in our line of work, we both deal with a, shall we say, unsavoury segment of the population.’

He took a few steps and glanced over towards the bed. ‘Oh, wow! He really took a beating’ Merton said as he got a glimpse of Neal lying motionless. ‘How’s he doing?’

‘Believe it or not, the doctors say he was lucky’ Peter began although it was hard to believe someone who looked like he'd been used repeatedly as a punching bag could be described as being lucky. ‘No broken ribs just... an awful lot of bruising and his face... well... his face took the brunt of the attack.’

‘I _do_ have some good news’ Merton began.

Peter stood and walked a few feet, stepping away from the bed to keep from waking Neal. ‘What is it?’

‘There’s security footage of the hallway at the hotel. We got a good look at one of the perps. We’re running it through facial recognition as we speak.’

Peter nodded. Any definite link to Wilkes would be helpful in sending a message that they had him in their crosshairs. 

Merton studied Peter’s face carefully. ‘We filed a motion with the judge to delay your testimony but... well, until we can prove this assault is linked to our case... we’re going to need some evidence to prove this wasn't some random act of violence.’

He waited a moment before continuing. ‘Are you still up to testifying today?’

Peter glanced at Neal on the bed. He hated to leave him alone but he knew Neal would be the first to urge him to go out and get the son of a bitch.

He nodded at Merton. ‘On one condition. I want twenty-four hour protection for Neal’ he said more than asked.

‘You’ve got it’ Merton said.

‘And there’s something else. Neal says the men who attacked him threatened to hurt his wife and daughter as well as my wife if we went ahead and testified.’

Merton sighed audibly. ‘Wow, that guy’s a really nasty piece of work, isn't he? How can we help?’

‘I’ve got some of my men providing surveillance back in New York’ Peter explained. ‘Let’s hope it’s just bluster.’

WCWCWC

‘Thanks for the coffee, Elizabeth. I really needed it’ Clinton Jones said as he sat at the kitchen table of the Caffrey house.

‘So what’s going on?’ El asked.

‘We’ve got two units deployed - one for you and one for Sara and Hope’ he explained.

‘Well, for the time being, I’m staying here. Sara and Hope have come down with strep throat and they’re both running a fever’ Elizabeth explained. ‘I don't want to leave them on their own... but I do need to go out and pick up a prescription for antibiotics for Sara - the sooner we get her started on the meds, the sooner she’ll start to feel better.’

‘I’ll take it’ Jones offered. ‘I’ll get one of the men to go pick it up. It’s easier if you’re not out walking around in public... just in case.’

He watched as she stood and grabbed Sara’s purse, pulling out the piece of paper and handing it to him. He could see worry on her face and he felt compelled to speak up.

‘You know, Elizabeth. These are probably just idle threats, a way to up the ante so Neal and Peter don't testify’ he said.

‘I know... but I’m worried about Peter too’ she admitted as Jones nodded.

‘Peter can take care of himself’ he reminded her. ‘And he’s got the DA’s office backing him up.’

Elizabeth looked into Clinton’s kind eyes. ‘What about after?’ she asked. ‘I know he’s doing this to keep Peter and Neal from testifying but what about when it’s all over? What if he decides he wants to retaliate and comes after... one of us?’

Jones gave her a soft smile. ‘Do you really need me to answer that?’ he asked rhetorically. ‘You know, you could pretty well say that about any number of the criminals Peter and Caffrey have put away over the years.’

El nodded. ‘I know... it’s just feels a little too real this time.’

Clinton took another long sip of coffee. ‘Well, try not to worry. In the meantime, we won’t let you, Sara or Hope out of our sight’ he reassured her as he stood to leave.

There was a soft rustling noise coming from the front of the house and Clinton instinctively reached for his gun, hand on his holster.

He and Elizabeth turned towards the sound only to find Sara standing there, unsteady, staring at the two of them in the middle of her kitchen.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked, her face flushed, her body wavering. ‘And don’t tell me ‘nothing’.’

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Clinton Jones and Elizabeth Burke stared at each other, eyes wide, as if they’d just been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. It was 7:00 in the morning on a Wednesday and there was no reasonable explanation as to why Agent Jones would be sitting at the Caffreys' kitchen table, having coffee unless...

Elizabeth’s eyes returned to Sara, noticing her swaying unsteadily on her feet. Her face was flushed, her eyes watery and she was holding on to the wall as if she feared she might do an inelegant face plant if she didn’t.

‘Look, why don't I leave you two to it’ Clinton said, slipping past Sara and gently touching her arm. ‘Feel better, Sara’ he added as he headed for the front door.

Elizabeth used the momentary distraction to get her wits about her and she walked the few feet separating her from her best friend and gently took her arm, leading her towards the kitchen table as they heard the front door close.

‘Come on, let’s sit you down, you look like you’re about to keel over’ she said, pulling out a chair for Sara to sit on. ‘I made some coffee.’

Sara let herself be led. Her fever was up again causing incessant throbbing in her head and she was nowhere near as sharp as she needed to be in order to pursue this conversation. She touched her head self consciously, noticing the wool cap under her hand and she rolled her eyes as she realized the unbecoming state in which her husband’s ex-work colleague had found her.

‘I don’t _want_ coffee, El. I want to know what’s going on’ she repeated, her voice hoarse. Elizabeth settled next to her and brought her hand to rest on Sara’s cheek.

‘Oh, honey, you’re burning up again. Let me get you something for that’ she said as she walked over to the sink.

She poured a glass of water and reached into the kitchen cupboard for the bottle of Tylenol she knew Sara kept there. The diversion seemed to work for a split second and Sara let her head drop in her hands as she tried to remain upright. Not only was her fever raging, her throat felt like it was on fire and her head was pounding, making it hard to concentrate.

‘Is Hope still sleeping?’ Elizabeth asked, only partly a distraction this time.

Sara ignored the question, her bloodshot eyes darting up to look at El. ‘Just tell me what’s going on. Why was Jones here? Did something happen?’

‘Here’ El said, handing her the glass of water and two tablets. ‘Take these and I’ll explain everything.’

Sara did as she was told, her eyes fixated on Elizabeth as she waited for her to come clean.

‘Now, will you _please_ stop stalling and tell me why Jones was at my kitchen table first thing in the morning.’

Elizabeth let out an audible sigh as she searched for the right words.

‘El!’ Sara barked loudly. She flinched at the pain she’d inflicted on herself and followed it up with a flurry of very nasty sounding wet coughs. ‘I have strep throat here, not some sort of mental impairment. Just spit it out already.’

‘Fine, fine’ Elizabeth said. There was no way out. The best she could do was to try to soften the blow as much as possible.

‘Honey, Peter called... there’s been an... incident. With Neal.’

‘An _incident_?’ Sara repeated, her mind foggy. ‘What _kind_ of incident?’

‘Neal was ambushed by Wilkes’ men and they... they roughed him up a little.’

From what Peter had told her, that was a major understatement but she needed to ease into this somehow. She could see Sara trying to understand what she’d just said but she seemed to be reacting in slow motion, her mind obviously not clear.

‘What?’ was all Sara could manage to say as she wrapped her confused mind around the new information. ‘What do you mean ‘roughed up’? How badly?’

Elizabeth hesitated and Sara took advantage of the slight pause to get to her feet, her hand reaching for the phone on the kitchen counter. If El wasn't going to tell her what she needed to know, she’d find out for herself. El placed her hand over Sara’s, urging her to wait while she explained further and Sara fought hard to focus her eyes on her best friend’s face as she let herself fall back onto the chair, phone cradled against her chest.

‘Sara, wait. Neal’s... he’s in the hospital.’

‘In the hospital?’ Sara said, her voice growing louder. ‘Wh- why? How bad _is_ it?’

‘Peter says he was attacked at the hotel by a couple of thugs and they had to take him to hospital. He’s... unconscious.’

‘Unconscious? Oh my god!’ Sara moaned, her hand to her mouth. ‘When did this happen? We just... I just talked to him last night.’

Her jumbled mind struggled to focus, although not very rationally. ‘I’ve got to go to him’ she added as she made a move to stand.

‘Sara, stop it! You’re not thinking straight’ Elizabeth said, holding her arm. ‘Let me explain...’

The sudden sound of Hope’s howling wafted down the stairs, breaking the tension and Sara turned towards the sound of her daughter’s cries.

Elizabeth’s arm was instantly on hers. ‘Don’t move’ she cautioned. ‘I’ll get her. I’ll be right back.’

Elizabeth had barely left the room when Sara dialled 1 on her phone’s speed dial, her heart pounding loudly in her chest as she waited to hear the reassuring sound of Neal’s voice. Her heart sank as the call went directly to voice mail and she gasped as she heard his familiar voice, sounding relaxed and full of mischief.

‘ _Hi, you’ve reached Neal Caffrey. Can’t take your call right now but leave a message and I’ll call you right back_.’

‘Neal...’ she murmured before choking up and letting the phone drop into her lap. She refocussed and brought the phone back to her blurry eyes as she began to search frantically for

Peter’s cell phone number in her contact list. She’d just located the number when she heard the growing sound of Hope’s wails as she was carried down the stairs by her godmother.

‘Sara!’ she heard El call out over Hope’s wailing. ‘Wait! Let me get Hope settled and we can call Peter together, all right?’

‘No!’ Sara said, shaking her head and sounding more like a whining toddler. ‘I want to call him now.’

‘Honey, he won’t even hear you with all this racket going on’ Elizabeth said as she came into view, holding a disconsolate toddler in her arms.

‘Oh, baby, come here!’ Sara said at the sight of her daughter, looking pretty well like she felt, feverish and miserable. She stood to take her from Elizabeth and El walked over and grabbed some meds from the kitchen cupboard for Hope - her antibiotics and some Tylenol - before heading over to the fridge and filling a glass with orange juice.

The loud cries began to recede somewhat as Sara ran her hand up and down her daughter’s back, cradling her against her chest.

‘It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay’ she murmured, the lie echoing through the kitchen.

WCWCWC

Peter remained glued to Neal’s side as he’d been all night, taking the odd catnap and waiting patiently for his best friend to fully regain consciousness. Except for the brief exchange they’d had earlier, Neal had remained unconscious, fluctuating between periods of blissful sleep and restless slumber.

He’d been dead to the world as Peter had chatted with Geoffrey Merton and now, he was back to moaning softly and squirming on the bed as Peter sat, holding his hand. Now that Merton had left them on their own, Peter couldn’t manage to tear himself away from Neal for fear he might wake up and find himself all alone. He checked his watch. He would have to leave for the courthouse soon and he hated the thought of leaving Neal on his own in such a state.

Neal’s face tensed up and Peter leaned in, speaking softly in his ear.

‘Neal?’ he murmured, uncertain as to whether or not his best friend could hear him. ‘Don’t worry, okay, buddy? Everything’s going to be fine. They’re going to keep an eye on you while I go to court and I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.’

Neal’s eyes fluttered open, his face confused as he reacted to the sound of Peter’s soft voice. Worry lines appeared on his forehead and he struggled to sit up, although his body was not on board with any such movement.

‘Sara...’ he moaned, disoriented.

‘Sara’s fine, Neal’ Peter said, holding him down. Truth was, he wasn't sure how Sara was doing but he was prepared to say just about anything to keep Neal from becoming any more agitated than he already was.

‘And _you’re_ going to be fine, too. They’re just keeping you sedated so the pain won’t be so bad.’

‘Court...’ Neal said, his voice barely a whisper. He made a weak attempt at sitting up again, coming up against Peter’s strong hand on his shoulder.

‘Whoa, whoa, buddy. No court for you today’ Peter said.

‘But... Wilkes...’ Neal said telegraphically.

‘I know... I know...’ Peter said with a reassuring smile. ‘I’ve got it all under control. They think they’ll be able to link the guys who attacked you to Wilkes.’

Neal nodded, his eyes fighting to stay open. ‘Want to testify...’ he murmured, losing steam.

‘We’ll see about that after you get your strength back, okay? But it’s not going to happen today.’

Neal nodded, giving in. ‘Sara...’ he repeated. ‘...worried...’

‘I’ll talk to Sara, all right? Don’t you worry about that. I’ll take care of _everything_ , you just rest’ Peter said, his voice breaking.

Neal forced his eyes open again, fear apparent this time. ‘Careful, Peter...’

With his nose broken, every word out of Neal’s mouth sounded like he was dealing with a monster head cold and Peter smiled at the sound of his name leaving Neal’s lips sounding more like ‘Beeter’.

He let his hand linger on Neal’s head, smoothing his hair as he tried to comfort him.

‘Don’t worry. The DA’s office has got my back and Jones is keeping an eye on Sara and Hope so don’t you worry about them, either’ he said. ‘You’ve got _one_ job today, buddy, and that’s to rest so you can get better. Do you understand?’

His question was left unanswered and he realized Neal had drifted off to sleep again. He let out a painful sigh at the sight of Neal’s face, disfigured and barely recognizable. Anger rose in his chest as he thought of what Wilkes had done to him. Now, all that was left was to make good on his word and go out there and nail Wilkes’ ass to the wall.

WCWCWC

‘Peter, are you _really_ telling me the truth?’ Sara’s shaky voice asked over the phone line.

Peter winced at the thought of misleading her but she sounded like she was about to pass out any minute. This was not the time to give her chapter and verse about Neal’s injuries; generalities would have to do for now.

‘Of course I am’ he answered as he navigated the car into the courthouse parking lot. Technically, it _was_ the truth - just not the _whole_ truth. ‘He had his eyes open and he was talking to me. He just needs to get some rest, that’s all.’

‘And you’re telling me everything?’ Sara asked, unconvinced.

‘Would I lie to you?’ Peter replied. He’d learned a thing or two about deflecting from his years hanging out with Caffrey. ‘Look, as soon as I get back to the hospital, I’ll have him call you. Will that make you feel better?’

Sara’s voice came back, weak. ‘Yes.’

‘All right, well then, that’s what I’ll do. In the meantime, you just get some rest and take care of my beautiful goddaughter.’

Sara nodded and handed the phone back to Elizabeth who’d been hovering nearby.

‘Get some sleep’ she urged Sara before stepping out of the bedroom and closing the door behind her.

‘Hi hon’ she said into the phone. ‘Thanks for that. I wasn't making much headway.’

‘Well, I’ve given her the bare bones for now’ Peter answered. ‘She sounds awful.’

‘She’s finally started on antibiotics. They should take effect within a couple of days.’

‘Honey, I’m sorry you’re having to deal with all this’ he said. ‘What about your big gala?’

‘The girls are handling it’ she said wistfully. ‘Sara and Hope need me.’

There was a moment of silence when all that could be heard was their breathing, in synch.

‘Are you sure _you’re_ going to be okay?’ Elizabeth asked.

‘Honey, the DA’s office has positive ID on these guys and they’ve gotten arrest warrants. Besides, this guy Merton is sticking to me like glue.’

‘Just... just promise me you’ll be extra careful, okay?’ she pleaded.

‘Promise’ Peter responded. ‘You too, just... until this is all over, Jones is sticking with you just in case...’

Peter didn't really need to finish his sentence; Elizabeth knew that criminals like Ryan Wilkes had many resources and could deploy them at a moment’s notice - even from behind bars.

‘I’ll call when I’m done in court and with any luck, Neal will be well enough to talk to Sara for a few minutes... try to reassure her.’

‘I love you’ came El’s response.

‘I love you too, honey’ Peter said before hanging up.

Elizabeth held the phone against her chest for a moment and walked back to the Caffreys' master bedroom, opening the door a crack to find both Hope and Sara blissfully asleep, their bodies wrapped around each other.

WCWCWC

_‘You look great, Sara’ Janet said as the two women stood face to face._

_Janet looked wonderful. She wore a long flowing robe, her cheeks round and pink, her smile warm and content - nothing at all like she’d looked the last time Sara had seen her._

_‘So do you’ Sara responded. ‘I’m sorry about...’_

_Janet put her hand out to touch Sara’s arm. ‘You have nothing to be sorry for. None of this is your fault.’_

_Sara wiped a tear as she nodded. ‘But... why... why am I still here and... you’re not?’_

_‘I don’t know the answer to that. But, you still have things to do before it’s your time to go’ the woman said._

Sara’s face grew tense and she pulled away from Hope in reaction to the unbearable heat emanating from her daughter’s fevered body.

_‘It’s not fair’ Sara added._

_‘No, it isn’t’ Janet admitted, as her face began to change in front of Sara’s eyes, her cheeks grew gaunt, her smile disappeared and her eyes began to grow dark._

_‘I miss my little Jacob’ the grandmother admitted, her voice sad._

_Her words tugged at Sara’s heartstrings and her breathing began to quicken as she watched in horror, Janet’s body growing smaller and smaller, seemingly dissolving under the flowing robe._

_Janet’s face grew further emaciated, barely recognizable and her body began to melt into a puddle on the floor._

_‘No! No! Don't go’ Sara pleaded as she watched in horror._

_‘No!’_

‘Sara! Sara, wake up!’ came another voice, this one loud and shrill.

Sara’s eyes flew open to find Elizabeth Burke hovering over her, accompanied by the sound of her daughter’s screaming next to her on the bed.

WCWCWC

Peter sat on the witness stand, eyes trained on Ryan Wilkes as he carried on with his testimony. There was no way he was going to let himself be intimidated by the man, no matter what. Peter had been in the witness box for almost an hour, recounting the facts from the Lindsay Gless case, explaining how the man had taken the teenager forcibly from her home and used her as leverage while he sent Peter’s CI out on his ungodly errands.

Wilkes stared back defiantly as Peter spoke, his tone of voice unwavering, without a shred of doubt or fear.

The man’s defence lawyer had questioned Peter on some of the details of the case but had not been successful in poking any holes in his testimony, giving up after a mere five minutes of cross examination.

Geoffrey Merton got to his feet and made his way to stand in front of Peter, preparing to inflict what he hoped would be irredeemable damage to the defence’s case. 

‘Agent Burke’ Merton began. ‘I understand your ex-CI, Mr. Neal Caffrey, who was scheduled to testify today, is unable to be here. Could you explain to the court why that is.’

Peter swallowed hard thinking of Neal, lying in a hospital bed a few miles away and his blood began to boil as he turned to glare at Ryan Wilkes.

‘My partner was viciously attacked last night at our hotel’ he began as Wilkes frowned.

‘He was accosted by two men who said they were delivering a message from Mr. Wilkes’ Peter continued as a voice rang out in the courtroom.

‘Objection, Your Honour!’ came the voice of Brian Purdy, defence attorney. ‘That’s hear say.’

The judge, a balding man in his late fifties looked down from his perch at Geoffrey Merton, silently asking for some justification as to why he should allow this line of questioning to continue.

‘Your Honour, if you could give me just a few minutes, I believe I can show the court how this has a direct bearing on this case.’

‘I’ll allow the testimony’ the judge decreed.

‘Continue, Agent Burke’ Geoffrey said.

‘As I was saying, Mr. Caffrey was accosted by two men last evening. I found him lying in a snowbank behind our hotel, bloody and unconscious. He told me that the men said they were acting on orders from Mr. Wilkes before proceeding to savagely beat him. He suffered a concussion, a broken nose, facial lacerations and several bruised ribs. He’s in hospital. Furthermore, Mr. Caffrey told me that the men had made threats against his wife and daughter as well as my wife if the two of us went ahead and testified against Mr. Wilkes today.’

Peter glanced in Wilkes’ direction noticing the man squirming in his seat as his lawyer whispered something in his ear.

‘Your Honour, this is all very interesting’ said Brian Purdy, pulling away from his client. ‘But there is no proof whatsoever that the... goons who attacked Mr. Caffrey were acting on orders from Mr. Wilkes.’

‘I beg to differ Your Honour’ Geoffrey Merton said. ‘I’d like to call to the stand, Mister William Boyd.’

Ryan Wilkes’ face hardened as his anger flared and Peter gave a small self-satisfied smile.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

As it turned out, Billy Boy Boyd as he was known to his cohorts in the underworld, had been more than happy to throw Ryan Wilkes under the bus. He’d been given a sweetheart deal which included full immunity in exchange for his testimony as well as a promise of relocation to the West Coast under the Federal Witness Protection Program.

He had taken some sick, twisted pleasure in watching his ex-boss squirm as he recounted his part in the attack on Neal, including the threats they had been instructed to proffer as they repeatedly pummelled his face and kicked him in the ribs. Peter hated the thought of this thug walking away scot free after what he’d done to Neal and yet, in this case, the end justified the means if it meant getting scum like Ryan Wilkes off the streets for good.

By the time Billy Boy had finished testifying, he had managed to strike an almost fatal blow to the defence’s case.

Shortly after lunch, the judge called a recess and Peter found himself sitting in a small meeting room in the courthouse, sipping a cup of coffee across from Geoffrey Merton while they waited for court to reconvene.

‘That’s really going to help our case’ Geoffrey Merton said. ‘Now if we can just get Neal on the stand, that would be the final nail in Wilkes’ coffin.’

‘What did the judge say about that?’ Peter asked. ‘How much more time is he giving you?’

‘Considering Boyd’s testimony and his part in the attack on Neal, the judge is giving us a lot of latitude to get Neal here. How long before he’s well enough to testify?’ the man asked.

Peter thought of Neal’s condition when he’d left him that morning. He’d been in a lot of pain and Peter was growing more and more anxious to get back and check on him.

‘Don’t know. I’m headed back to the hospital as soon as we’re done here’ Peter said before continuing. ‘But I don't want to push him... not before he’s ready.’

Geoffrey Merton nodded. ‘Agreed’ he said just as Peter’s phone rang.

Peter glanced down, seeing El’s face appear on the screen. ‘It’s my wife’ he announced as Merton stood to leave.

‘I’ll let you know when we reconvene’ he whispered as he slipped out of the small meeting room, leaving Peter on his own.

‘Hi hon’ he answered, trying his best to sound cheerful.

‘Hi, how’s it going?’ she responded.

‘It’s going well. The court just heard the testimony from one of the guys who attacked Neal last night. They gave him a pretty sweet deal and he sang like a canary.’

‘That’s good, right?’ Elizabeth asked, sounding anxious.

‘It’s _very_ good. So tell me, how are things going at your end?’

‘Hope’s been sleeping practically non-stop since she started on the antibiotics’ Elizabeth informed him as she held the child against her chest and walked to the front of the house to check on the surveillance team out front.

Peter nodded. ‘That’s good. And what about Sara?’

‘She’s feeling pretty miserable. I left her upstairs so she could nap. Honey, she can’t stop thinking about Neal.’ El admitted. ‘Luckily, she can barely stand, let alone walk or I’d be worried she’d escape through the bedroom window to go find him.’

Peter listened in silence; he knew how determined Sara Ellis could be when she got something in her head, even something as crazy as boarding a plane while she was fighting a raging infection.

‘Honey, you really need to get him on the phone, even for just a minute or she’s going to lose it’ Elizabeth added.

‘I will... as soon as I get back to the hospital. The nurse said he was resting comfortably when I called a while ago. Are Jones and his men still keeping an eye on the house.’

El peeked out the living room window, noticing the nondescript black van parked across the street.

‘Yup. But, honey, I’m starting to get cabin fever.’

‘It’s just for a few days. Until we get back to New York. Now that I’ve testified, I’m sure Wilkes will back off. He has nothing to gain from...’

Peter let his voice trail, unwilling to share his concerns in any more detail. Wilkes’ threats were moot now that he’d testified but the guy could still be out for revenge and he wouldn't put it past him to hurt El - or Sara and Hope for that matter.

‘You’re _sure_ or you _think?_ ’ she asked. She knew her husband all too well.

His silence spoke volumes.

‘Just hang on, El. Look, I’ll call you back as soon as I get to the hospital.’

WCWCWC

_The masked man stood with his gun drawn, aimed directly at Sara as she shielded Hope with her body._

_‘Don’t shoot... please’ she begged, her eyes wild with fear._

_Neal watched from a distance, his feet seemingly glued to the floor._

_‘NO!’ he screamed although neither the gunman nor Sara reacted to the sound of his voice._

_He watched in horror as the gun was fired and Sara’s body began to crumple to the ground in slow motion, her legs giving way as she fell like a rag doll, Hope still tightly in her grasp._

_Neal stared, transfixed, unable to move._

_‘SARA!’ he screamed, his throat raw._

The horrifying image began to slowly fade away and Neal grimaced in reaction to an insistent voice off in the distance.

‘Mr. Caffrey! Mr. Caffrey!’

Neal tried to pry his eyes open, only partly successfully, as an unknown, albeit kind, smile appeared in his blurred field of vision.

‘What...’ he muttered, obviously disoriented. The pain in his ribs flared, cutting off his breathing and leaving him unable to finish his sentence.

‘Try not to move too much’ the nurse said as she held up a loaded syringe. ‘You’re due for your pain meds. That’ll help take the edge off.’

‘Nooo...’ Neal whined. ‘...bad dreams.’

The woman smiled gently. ‘I know. Unfortunately, it’s a common side effect but I’m afraid it’s a necessary evil if you want your body to start healing.’

Neal let his eyes drift shut again, fighting with all his might to stay connected to reality. ‘What time is it?’ he moaned.

‘It’s just after one o’clock. Agent Burke called about half an hour ago to see how you were doing’ she answered.

A smile appeared on Neal’s lips; leave it to Peter to be keeping an eye on him, even from a distance.

‘He asked me to tell you not to worry. Said he’d be back as soon as he could.’

‘Do you know where my phone is?’ Neal asked, his eyes narrowing. Maybe he could reach out to Sara before the meds kicked in and he drifted off to la-la land once again.

She frowned. ‘No, I’m sorry. I didn't see a phone in your personal effects.’

Neal let out a painful groan. Peter had promised to call Sara but Neal knew his wife wouldn't be satisfied until she heard his voice and frankly, he was just as eager to hear hers. He nodded, disappointed, and he let his head fall back on the pillow, watching as the nurse injected the pain medication into his IV line. He moaned in relief as he almost instantly felt the drugs coursing through his veins.

She gave him a gentle pat on the arm as he began to fade away. ‘Try to think happy thoughts.’

WCWCWC

Back in White Plains, New York, Elizabeth Burke sat on the couch in the Caffreys’ family room with her goddaughter tucked in against her body as they both dozed. After a busy night of tending to her patients and monitoring events in faraway Lansing, she was exhausted and she was grateful for the temporary lull as both Sara and Hope got some well needed rest. Although she’d fessed up to the fact that Neal had been hurt, she’d refrained from telling Sara that they were under house arrest as they waited for everything to get resolved. Considering the state she was in, Sara wasn't going anywhere so there was really no reason to add to her worries by telling her they were under FBI surveillance.

Unbeknownst to Elizabeth, just above her head in the master bedroom, Sara Ellis was _not_ sleeping. She’d been tossing and turning in bed for the past fifteen minutes, her arms wrapped around Neal’s pillow as she took in his lingering scent on the pillowcase. Although Peter had promised to get in touch the moment he returned to the hospital, that just wasn't good enough. She needed to talk to Neal or, at the very least, find out how he was ‘really’ doing. She suspected that Peter’s cursory rundown of Neal’s injuries had been left purposefully vague - all in an effort to keep her from worrying or getting more worked up than she already was.

But if there was one thing Sara Ellis despised, it was being patronized - she wanted the truth, the whole truth.

She spied the tablet next to her on the bed and grabbed for it, immediately firing up her trusty search engine as her fingers hovered over the keyboard. By omission or by design, neither Peter nor Elizabeth had mentioned the name of the hospital Neal had been taken to and Sara was determined to put her extensive investigative skills to work to find her husband, no matter what.

She wiped her feverish eyes, blinking to keep her vision from becoming blurry and she typed in the words ‘hospitals Lansing Michigan’ in the Google search engine. An extensive list popped up and Sara forced her hazy mind to focus more clearly. She had a vague recollection of Neal jotting something down as he’d talked to Peter on the phone, discussing where they’d be staying. Although he’d mentioned the name of the hotel to her in passing, her mind was not fully functional and she wondered if he might have left the scrap of paper with the information on the nearby night table. She reached over to his side of the bed and began poking around, past the book he’d been reading, the half empty bottle of water he'd left there and a box of tissues. She quickly located the scrap of paper, immediately recognizing Neal’s tidy handwriting as her heart tightened: Quality Inn, Grand River Avenue.

She blinked a few times, trying to stay focussed and returned to the keyboard, refining her search and asking for the hospitals closest to the hotel. The list was much shorter and right on top was St Lawrence Hospital which appeared to be a few short miles from the Quality Inn.

She grabbed for the phone on the night table and began punching in the phone number. It felt like forever before the hospital’s operator came on the line and, upon request, the woman typed in Neal’s name in the hospital’s database as Sara continued to breathe heavily on the line.

‘Sorry ma’am’ she said with utter confidence. ‘We don’t have a patient here by that name.’

‘Are you sure?’ Sara asked testily, her voice rough.

‘Quite’ the woman responded curtly - with a barely disguised tone of annoyance. After all, she’d been doing this job for going on thirty-seven years and she _never_ made a mistake.

Sara debated whether she should insist and thought better of it. Maybe, for some reason, he’d been taken to another hospital nearby. She returned to the short list, noting that the McLaren Orthopedic Hospital was also close by. What was it Peter had said? That Neal had bruised ribs... Maybe they needed to make sure he didn't have any broken bones. It might make sense to take him to a hospital that specialized in orthopaedics. Without hesitation, she punched in the new number, holding her breath.

‘McLaren Orthopedic Hospital’ came a voice, almost identical to the one she’d just heard.

‘I’m trying to find my husband’ Sara declared, sounding more like she was trying to locate a lost earring than an actual human being.

She could sense the hesitation at the other end - who loses their husband?

‘Name’ the woman said competently, not showing any emotion.

‘Caffrey... Neal’ Sara responded without hesitation.

There was a brief silence and the operator came back on the line. ‘I’ll put you through to the third floor nursing station.’

Sara let out a sigh of relief as she realized she’d hit pay dirt; with any luck, she’d be hearing Neal’s voice any second now.

‘Third floor nursing station’ a much younger voice chimed.

‘My name is Sara Ellis... ummm, Caffrey... I mean Ellis-Caffrey’ she over corrected, her voice shaky. Great! Now she looked like some sort of an impostor who didn't even know her own name.

She soldiered on. ‘I understand my husband, Neal Caffrey, is on your ward. Can you please tell me how he’s doing?’

The nurse seemed to hesitate. Protocol was clear - no personal information shared over the phone to anyone but immediate family - and this crazy woman sounded like she was making things up as she went along.

‘I’m sorry ma’am, I’m not at liberty to share any information over the phone.’

‘What?’ Sara moaned as she felt tears welling up. ‘But you don’t understand... I need to know how he is. Please....’

‘Ma’am, I’m sorry - it’s protocol’ the woman responded.

‘Please! Stop calling me ‘ma’am!’ Sara snapped back as she grew more and more distressed.

She took a shaky breath before continuing, tears now running down her cheeks. ’How’s this for protocol... my husband was in Lansing to testify against a killer... and he was beaten up at his hotel... and I don’t know how he is... and I’m miles away in New York... and our daughter has strep throat... and I do, too... and I’m running a fever... and I’m worried sick... and I just want to hear his voice... and -

‘Ma’am! Ma’am!’ the young nurse interrupted, ready to do just about anything to shut down this lunatic on the other end of the line. ‘I mean, Mrs. Caffrey...’ she corrected, trying to avoid poking the crazy lady and having her unleash her wrath a second time.

The story seemed just too outlandish _not_ to be true. She thought of the handsome patient just across the hall from the nurses’ station, the one who’d asked for his phone; maybe he’d been wanting to call his wife.

‘Hold on’ the nurse said. ‘Let me see what I can do.’

Sara sniffled at the other end, grabbing for a tissue to wipe her nose as she blubbered. ‘Thank you.’ 

The young nurse walked the few feet towards Neal’s room, carrying the phone against her chest. She found him sleeping, looking much more peaceful and serene than when she’d walked in on him earlier.

She hesitated for a moment before leaning in and speaking softly in his ear. ‘Mr. Caffrey?’ she whispered as Neal’s eyes immediately flew open.

‘I have a lady on the phone... she says she’s your wife’ she said as Neal’s eyes lit up and he gave her what might be construed as a smile - although it was difficult to tell for sure with his face so bruised up.

She handed him the phone and stepped away. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

‘Sara?’ Neal said breathlessly, doing his best to sound alert.

‘Oh, Neal! It’s really you!’ Sara whimpered as the tears began to flow again. Her litany had left her throat raw and her voice uneven and she let out a couple of horrible sounding coughs as she tried to catch her breath.

‘Honey, you sound terrible’ Neal moaned, seemingly unaware that he sounded much worse than she did.

‘ _I_ sound terrible?’ she repeated. ‘You sound like you have a head cold... or... a broken nose.’

Neal hesitated a second too long before denying; she’d always been a very thorough investigator, one who kept digging until she got to the bottom of things.

‘Oh, my god! You have a broken nose?’ she croaked in response to the awkward silence.

‘Honey, it’s really not that bad...’ he attempted, regrettably too little, too late.

He continued, trying to keep things light. ‘But you know those family shots we were planning on getting when your hair grows back in? Let’s just say, now we have _two_ good reasons to hold off.’

His attempt at humour fell flat and despite the pain meds, he grunted, something that didn't go unnoticed by his wife.

‘You’re in pain...’ she murmured.

Neal let out a choked laugh. ‘I never could keep anything from you, Repo.’

‘I’ve been so worried about you... ever since El told me what happened’ she said, her voice cutting in and out.

‘I’m okay, babe. I’m okay’ Neal lied, more concerned about her than anything else.

‘Dammit! Don’t try to con me, Caffrey’ she answered, annoyed.

  
He let his eyes drift shut as he tried to focus on the conversation.

‘These guys... they just caught me off guard, that’s all’ he grudgingly admitted.

‘Guys?’ she repeated. ‘How many were there?’

‘One of them held me back while the other...’ he stopped suddenly. That was definitely too much information.

‘I guess they didn't get the memo that I was a lover, not a fighter’ he joked, doing his best not to grunt as the pain flared once more. ‘Now, are you going to tell me why your voice sounds like you swallowed a frog?’

‘It’s just a sore throat, that’s all’ she fibbed.

Despite the fact he didn't believe her, he decided to let it go... for the moment.

‘Is Hope all right?’ he asked, his voice weak as the images from his earlier nightmare flashed in his mind, unbidden.

‘She’s fine...’ more than a fib, an actual lie. ‘But she misses her daddy.’

Neal smiled at the thought of his little girl. He felt so powerless to keep them both safe from his hospital bed and he sighed loudly.

‘Are you following Jones’ orders and keeping a low profile?’ he asked.

An awkward silence followed and he realized that, for some reason, Sara didn't seem to know about the threats that had been made against her and Hope. He winced as he shifted in the bed and followed that up with a loud moan as his face ached.

Dammit. Foiled again.

‘All right Caffrey, what the hell are you talking about?’ she asked, her voice growing even weaker. ‘And don't you dare leave anything out.’

He rolled his eyes... more pain and he let out an audible sigh.

‘Peter thought it would be a good... idea’ he fibbed. ‘Just as a precaution...’

‘Why? Did they make threats... against us?’ she asked.

‘Define ‘threats’ Neal answered as he shook his head back and forth on the pillow, angry at himself for opening the can of worms.

Being married to a pit bull had its advantages but at the moment, he couldn't think of a single one.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Talking to his wife on the phone had taken everything out of him and Neal could feel himself slipping away, his voice faltering and his head pounding from the considerable efforts he’d made to try to reassure her. He could tell from her reaction that he was having limited success. Sara was relentless when she wanted to get to the bottom of something and in his present state, he was no match for her dogged perseverance.

He watched as the nurse came back into his room and he let his head drop back on the pillow, unable to keep his eyes open any longer.

‘Sara...’ he murmured drowsily, his eyes drifting shut despite his valiant efforts to stay awake. ‘... nurse is here... try not to worry...’

‘Neal? Neal?’ Sara called out, anxiety rising in her chest in response to the silence that ensued.

To her dismay, it wasn't Neal’s voice but the soft female voice from before which next came on the line.

‘Mrs. Caffrey’ the young woman said. ‘Your husband is exhausted. He needs some rest.’

Sara wiped her eyes, a mix of fever and tears. ’But... what can you tell me about his injuries?’

She could hear the woman moving around and she imagined her stepping out of her patient’s room and making her way back to the nurses’ station. Sara heard papers shuffling, as the nurse ostensibly looked over Neal’s file.

‘Your husband suffered a concussion which caused some confusion at first but that seems to be resolved. He’s still complaining about headaches though and he has a gash over his eye which was stitched up when he first came in. As far as his broken nose is concerned, the doctor made a note on file that it should be treated in a couple of weeks, once the swelling’s gone down. The bruised ribs seem to be what’s causing him the most pain at the moment and we’re keeping him on pain meds so he can get some rest.’

Sara listened to the laundry list of injuries, mouth agape. ‘How long... how long is he going to have to stay in hospital?’

‘That depends. The doctor is scheduled to come by again this evening’ the nurse replied. ‘You can call back then if you like, maybe there’ll be more news.’

‘Thanks’ Sara said, meekly.

She hung up the phone and held it against her chest for what seemed like minutes. This was all wrong. Calling later for more news just wasn't good enough; she needed to see her husband in the flesh.

WCWCWC

Sara lay in bed for a long time, evaluating her options. Was it a batshit crazy idea to be thinking about hopping on a plane to join Neal in Lansing? Of course it was. But for every argument she came up with against such folly, her clouded mind came up with two good reasons to go.

Her throat was raw and sore and she was still shivering from the fever she was fighting so hard to keep under control but her mind was sharp and, despite her ambivalence, she was already mapping out an intricate plan to leave the house without any interference from Elizabeth.

From what she could see, Hope was already on the mend, the antibiotics kicking in after a mere twenty-four hours, She, herself, had been taking them since earlier in the day and she worked hard to convince herself that she’d be feeling much better by morning.

She rolled over and checked the screen on her tablet, open to a listing of available flights to Michigan over the next few hours. Regardless of the litany of reasons she had managed to conjure up for going, she knew for a fact she would never be able to convince Elizabeth that this was a good idea. If she _did_ go, it would have to be without El’s knowledge.

Neal had been cryptic about the surveillance detail Peter had arranged and she slipped out of bed and tiptoed across the hall into Neal’s studio to look out the front window. She immediately spotted the not so discreetly parked van right in front of Myrtle and Charlie Stevens’ place next door. Not only would she have to give Elizabeth the slip, she would have to find a way to avoid Peter’s men as well - an easy enough task for someone as resourceful as Sara Ellis, even if she wasn't firing on all pistons at the moment.

She returned to her room and settled on the bed, grabbing for her credit card. Flights out of Westchester Airport all had stops, increasing her travel time considerably, but she could get a direct flight out of JFK shortly after one in the morning if she wanted to put up with a forty-five minute cab ride. If she could make that flight, she reasoned, she would be by Neal’s side before morning.

She wavered for a brief instant and then, banishing all nagging doubts, she foolishly typed in her credit card number, sealing her fate.

WCWCWC

By the time Peter made it back to McLaren Orthopedic Hospital, Neal was sitting up in bed, staring out the window - and looking a lot more alert than he’d been that morning.

‘Beeter!’ he called out, eliciting a small chuckle from his best friend.

‘Hey buddy! You’re looking a lot better than when I left this morning’ Peter remarked.

‘I’ve been sleeping most of the day’ Neal replied, wincing in pain as he moved on the bed.

‘Ooooh, I can see the bruising has really come in, huh? Painful?’ Peter asked, grimacing in empathy as he pointed to Neal’s bruised face.

Neal shrugged. ‘Tell me what happened’ he said, changing the subject.

‘First, why don’t we give Sara a call’ Peter suggested. ‘She’s been worried sick about you.’

‘I already talked to her’ Neal admitted, to Peter’s surprise.

‘You already talked to her? When?’ Peter repeated.

‘She tracked me down earlier and she called here’ Neal said with a crooked smile. ‘I think I managed to convince her I was okay... but it’s hard to tell with Sara.’

Peter nodded in agreement. Leave it to Sara Ellis to track her husband down with limited information and a raging fever.

‘So?’ Neal repeated. ‘What happened in court?’

Peter perched himself on the edge of the bed as Neal attempted to lean forward, grimacing as the relentless ache in his chest flared once again.

‘Well, I testified’ Peter began. ‘And I stared at Wilkes the whole time... the son of a bitch.’

Neal nodded. He knew Ryan Wilkes and his machinations only too well. Just the thought of his scheming smile was enough to turn his stomach.

‘The DA’s office struck a deal with one of the two thugs who attacked you and he came clean and implicated Wilkes in the kidnapping.’

A smile, albeit a painful one, erupted on Neal’s battered face. ‘That’s great!’

‘It is... but the DA’s office still wants you to testify’ Peter added, reluctantly.

‘Yeah, sure. Let’s go’ Neal said as he attempted, without much success, to swing his legs off the edge of the bed.

‘Whoa, whoa there cowboy. Not so fast. First of all, court’s adjourned for today and secondly, they’ll wait for you, however long it takes.’

‘Peter, I’m fine’ Neal lied. He was eager to get this over with so he could get home to his wife and daughter.

Peter frowned and shook his head. ‘Look, I know you’re deluded and you think you have some sort of superpowers...’ he began as Neal shot him a look of exasperation. ‘But until the doctor gives you the all clear, you’re staying right here.’

Neal let himself fall back onto the pillow, suddenly exhausted. ‘He’s supposed to come by tonight’ he said. ‘But I’m feeling a lot better...’

‘Let’s let the doctor weigh in on that, okay?’ Peter said as he glanced at the tray of food that had been left untouched by the side of the bed.

‘I see you didn't touch your... dinner’ he concluded as he surveyed the less than appetizing grey mush on the tray. ‘How about I get you some _real_ food?’

Neal scoffed; food didn't have much appeal at the moment but even _he_ knew he needed to build up his strength if he was going to walk out of the hospital.

‘Yeah’ he moaned in agreement. ‘Anything but chips.’

WCWCWC

As Sara had hoped, by 10:00, Elizabeth Burke was exhausted and shortly thereafter, she settled into Hope’s room, bidding her patients good night. Between caring for Hope and Sara, trying to monitor goings-on in Lansing and keeping in touch with her office, she was more than ready for an early night and Sara was grateful for that fact, considering the covert operation she was about to carry out.

She lay in bed, fighting sleep and running her hand through her daughter’s dark curls as the child slept peacefully for the first time in days. The antibiotics seemed to be having the desired effect and Hope had even eaten some of El’s mac and cheese at dinner - a sure sign she was on the mend. Sara brought her lips to her daughter’s forehead, noting it was cool against her fevered lips.

‘Mommy’s going away for a couple of days, sweetheart’ she murmured lovingly. ‘I’m going to go take care of Daddy and I’ll bring him home, okay? Auntie Elizabeth will take good care of you.’

She heard the good angel on her shoulder whispering in her ear: _‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, woman? You’re in no fit state to board a plane. How are you going to take care of your husband when you can’t even take care of yourself!’_

Another voice immediately answered: _‘You’ll be fine. It’s an hour and a half flight and you can be with Neal in just a few hours.’_

Voice number one returned, without missing a beat. _’You’re going to infect everyone on the plane, you idiot!’_

_‘No, I’m not. Dr. Google says you’re not contagious after you start on the antibiotics.’_

_‘That’s not exactly right; it said after twenty-four hours on antibiotics.’_

_‘Close enough!’_

_‘Shut up!’_

_‘No, you shut up!’_

She shook her head resolutely, shushing both voices. With one last quick kiss to Hope’s forehead, she slipped out of bed and changed into the clothes she’d prepared earlier, pulling out the overnight bag she’d hidden under the bed and placing the note she’d written for Elizabeth on the pillow, next to her daughter. El would be pissed, there was no doubt about it but Sara was prepared to make it up to her with plenty of grovelling and a full day at El’s favourite spa. She tiptoed out of her room and glanced into her daughter’s room, finding her best friend sound asleep on the bed, snoring softly, dead to the world.

She made her way downstairs, careful to sidestep that creaky third step she’d been nagging Neal to fix for ages and praying she would be able to make her escape before being found out. It was just past 10:30 and she’d pre-ordered a cab to pick her up a few doors down at Donna and Jeff Mason’s place at 11:00. She took a quick gander out the front door, noticing the van still parked there, watching the house. Even though she was throwing caution to the wind, Sara Ellis was anything but stupid and she grabbed her trusty baton from the front hall closet and slipped it into her purse just in case those (probably) idle threats should come to pass. She was reasonably sure that Wilkes was bluffing and she was confident no one was going to attack her in public - she’d learned a long time ago that there was safety in numbers. All she had to do was avoid secluded, dark corners until she safely made her way to Lansing.

There was only one more thing she needed to do before she slipped out the back door and across the neighbours' back yard.

She picked up the phone and dialled the Mason home.

’Donna?’ Sara croaked as her friend and neighbour answered the phone.

‘Sara! My god, you sound even worse than you did yesterday!’ the woman replied.

‘Thanks!’ Sara said, her sense of humour intact. ‘Nice talking to you, too. Look, I’m sorry to be calling so late but I need your help.’

‘Sure, what’s up? Do you need me to take Hope tomorrow?’

‘Not exactly’ Sara whispered, hesitating. ‘Donna, Neal’s in the hospital...’

‘What? Wasn't he in Michigan with his ex-boss?’

‘He was... I mean he _is_. They were there to testify against this guy they once arrested but... anyway, long story short, Neal got mugged and he’s in the hospital.’

That was the sanitized version of what had happened; the important thing was for Donna to know that Sara was leaving town for a couple of days and that El might need help in caring for Hope.

‘Oh, Sara, I’m so sorry. How can I help?’

‘You remember our friend Elizabeth? You met her last summer?’

‘Yeah, sure I remember Elizabeth. Elizabeth and Peter Burke, right?’

‘Right. El is staying here and she’s giving me a hand with Hope but I’m... well, I’m flying out to be with Neal tonight and I wondered if you could act as backup if she has to go in to work. I don’t want to leave her without a backup.’

‘Of course. Anything you need, you know that. I love having Hope here. But Sara, are you sure you’re well enough to travel?’ Donna asked, feeling like it was her job to play devil’s advocate.

‘I’m already feeling a lot better’ Sara lied. ’Donna, I just can’t stand the thought of Neal lying in that hospital bed.’

‘I don’t know Sara...’ Donna said, suddenly worried.

Sara cut her off; this was not the time to waver. ‘And there’s one more thing. I’ve called a cab to pick me up at your place at 11:00.’

‘At _our_ place? But, why...’

‘Donna, I really need you _not_ to ask any questions right now. Please!’ Sara said, her voice weak but resolute.

‘All right...’ the woman agreed reluctantly.

‘I’ll be right over’ Sara said as she grabbed her bag and slipped out the back door.

WCWCWC

The hospital was dark and quiet and Neal let the latest dose of pain medication wash over him, lulling him to sleep. He’d managed to convince Peter to go back to the hotel and get a good night’s sleep; after all, he was in no immediate danger and there was no need for Peter to spend the night sitting on a chair when he could curl up in a comfy bed back at their hotel. He glanced out into the hallway, noticing his shadow sitting by the door as he’d been doing all day. Although Peter’s testimony was now a matter of record, he’d insisted the DA’s office continue to provide security for Neal at least until he was released from hospital.

He could feel his body start to relax under the effect of the drugs and he let his mind roam, thinking of Sara and Hope back home, so far away. No doubt, Hope would be wondering why he wasn't checking in, reading the promised bedtime story. He had a fleeting urge to call home and he glanced at his watch, noting it was past ten o’clock, alas, too late to indulge his yearning to hear his wife and daughter’s voices. He shifted on the narrow bed, trying to find a comfortable position to settle in, cursing the flaring pain on his left side, by far, worse than his right side.

Maybe a text... he thought as he suddenly remembered his phone was still back at the hotel. He’d have to remind Peter to bring him his phone in the morning; he felt so out of touch without it.

After a few random, half-formed thoughts, he began to drift away as he imagined curling up against Sara, warm woolen cap and all.

WCWCWC

Sara sat in the back seat of the cab as she valiantly fought sleep. She had managed to skulk through the backyards of the three houses separating the Caffrey home from the Mason house, arriving with a shiver after having trudged through the cold and snow. Donna had done her best to dissuade her from her mission, without success.

Now that she was warm and toasty in the back seat of the limo, she’d begun to relax, working hard to stay focussed on the task ahead. Her legs were shaky and her mind was hazy but she reminded herself she needed to fight the fatigue if she wanted to get to her destination. She popped another couple of Tylenol and played out the next few hours in her mind, imagining herself boarding the plane, arriving in Lansing and hopping in a cab to the hospital where Neal would no doubt be relieved to see her.

Despite her best efforts, her eyes began to flutter shut and before they’d even left the Westchester County limits, she had drifted off to sleep.

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

By the time Sara was dropped off in front of Terminal 8 at JFK, she’d begun to feel so warm and toasty that the last thing she wanted to do was climb out of the cozy cab and back out into the cold night air. Her fever was raging, her body shivering, her throat still raw and her head throbbed, making any coherent thought practically impossible.

By sheer force of will, she managed to catapult herself out of the back seat of the cab, standing unsteadily by the brightly lit terminal. She knew what she was doing was totally absurd but... in for a penny, in for a pound. If she could just hold herself together a little bit longer, she would soon start to feel the healing effects of the antibiotics and she’d be well enough to properly care for Neal - poor, sweet Neal who was lying alone in a hospital bed, miles away.

The taxi driver stood directly in front of her with his hand out and Sara realized she’d kept him waiting while the cobwebs in her mind dissipated.

‘Sorry’ she mumbled as she dug into her purse for payment. She could feel her legs shaking underneath her and once the man had disappeared from sight, she willed herself to grab her overnight bag and head inside the busy airport.

WCWCWC

‘Mr. Caffrey’ the male voice called out, pulling Neal out of a deep sleep.

The soft light from above his hospital bed was suddenly turned on and he blinked in response to the unwelcome brightness.

‘Dr. Godfrey...’ he murmured, recognizing the man who’d been treating him since his arrival at the hospital.

‘Sorry to wake you’ the older gentleman said. ‘I’m just getting around to doing my rounds and I wanted to check and see how you were doing.’

Neal refrained from making a snarky remark about how he _had_ been doing just fine until he'd been so rudely awakened and instead, he decided to go with a more polite response to the doctor’s question.

‘I’m feeling much better’ he croaked as he winced in pain. ‘Are you here to sign my discharge papers?’

Dr. Godfrey chose to ignore the question, preferring to reserve judgement until after he'd finished his cursory examination.

‘Your ribs are going to take several weeks to heal’ the doctor commented as he lifted Neal’s hospital gown to survey the damage, gingerly touching the bright bruises while Neal flinched in response.

He moved on to Neal’s face, gently palpating his patient’s swollen nose. ’As far as your nose is concerned, I suggest you follow up with your family doctor when you get home so he can arrange for you to see a surgeon.’

Neal frowned. ‘A surgeon?’

‘As I said earlier, you’re suffering from a deviated septum’ he began as Neal frowned. ‘The surgeon will likely do a septoplasty to repair it and reposition it in the centre of your nose. It’s a fairly standard procedure’ he added authoritatively.

Neal momentarily wished Peter was still sitting nearby to help him make sense of all this medical mumbo jumbo. In his present state, he wasn’t sure he was able to comprehend the finer points of what the doctor was telling him.

Dr. Godfrey noticed Neal’s look of confusion and continued. ‘It’s basically a realignment of your nose’ he reminded him. ‘I notice you were snoring quite loudly a minute ago. That’s typical with a deviated septum. I’ve prescribed some decongestants in the meantime to help reduce swelling and keep both sides of your nose open. Just don’t overdo it; those things can become addictive and they could elevate your blood pressure and your heart rate’ he said as Neal stared back blankly.

‘How are the nosebleeds?’ he asked.

‘I haven't had one since this afternoon’ Neal responded as he thought back to the mess he'd made earlier.

‘That should dissipate as well’ the doctor said with confidence. ‘What about the pain?’

Neal shrugged. Truth be told, the pain was brutal and combined with the constant throbbing from the cut above his left eye, his face felt like it had been repeatedly kicked in by a pair of heavy work boots - which was pretty well exactly what had happened.

‘I’ve prescribed some pain medication to get you through the next few days. Don’t drive while you’re taking it’ he warned as he jotted something down on Neal’s chart. ‘It’s pretty potent stuff and you may feel a little woozy, just don’t do anything strenuous for a few days.’

He finished writing up Neal’s chart as the younger man sat, waiting patiently for the verdict.

‘I don’t see any reason to keep you in hospital any longer, Mr. Caffrey. I’m happy to release you in the morning... unless you have any other issues you wish to discuss.’

Neal smiled despite the intense pain in his face. He couldn't wait to get out of there, give his damn testimony and get the hell out of Dodge.

‘No, no. That would be great. Thank you doctor’ he said as his body began to relax.

‘Well, good luck Mr. Caffrey. And have a safe trip home’ Dr. Godfrey said before disappearing out the door.

Neal let out a sigh of relief at the news and he began fidgeting on the mattress as he tried to find that blissful position he’d been sleeping in earlier. But his pain meds were starting to wear off, depriving him of that euphoric feeling he’d had earlier and he called for the nurse who appeared, holding a syringe in her hand as Neal smiled back.

‘Please’ he moaned, pointing to his IV pole.

He was going home... and not even relentless pain could detract from his overwhelming sense of relief.

WCWCWC

Sara adjusted the paper mask on her face, careful not to dislodge her wig as she fiddled with the elastic band. It was a nuisance but it was the least she could do to keep all her fellow passengers from coming down with a painful case of strep throat.

She had managed to hold her own through boarding and to make it to her seat without stumbling, grateful she was seated near the front of the plane. Her eyes fluttered shut despite her resolve to stay awake and she forced them open, checking her watch. It was 12:57, almost time to take her fourth and last dose of antibiotics of the day. She grabbed for the bottle of water she’d picked up in the airport coffee shop and swallowed the rest of it down with the small pill, letting her head fall back as she readjusted the mask. She grumbled as she realized she should have grabbed a second bottle - everybody knew how important it was to stay hydrated when flying.

‘Pillow?’ a warm voice asked as her eyes fluttered open.

Sara nodded, unable to even utter the word ‘yes’ out loud and she fell back onto the small pillow, her body giving in to the overwhelming fatigue.

As far as crazy schemes went, this was right up there with the time they’d helped Scott Rivers return the diamond bustier he'd stolen or the time she and Neal had managed to spend close to ninety million dollars in order to draw out the infamous Vulture. Most of the time, Sara Ellis prided herself on being level-headed and analytical when deciding on a course of action but apparently there were exceptions to every rule - and this cockamamie scheme of hers to slip out from under the FBI’s watchful eye certainly qualified as one of those rare exceptions.

Her mind wandered and Neal’s face appeared, unbidden, only this time, she imagined him beaten and bruised, arms reaching out for her. Poor baby... she couldn't wait to get to Lansing and give him the TLC and comfort he needed.

She’d resisted phoning ahead to let him know she was coming. If she had, he would surely have tried to persuade her to go back home. Better to just show up unannounced. Initially, Neal might be annoyed at her for her lack of impulse control but she knew him well enough to know that he’d soon melt at the sight of her.

A small smile graced her lips as she floated to sleep, the blissful slumber giving way to fever fuelled dreams of Janet and of Neal being beaten up as she watched helplessly.

WCWCWC

‘Hey honey’ Peter’s gentle voice said.

‘Peter?’ said Elizabeth as she woke from a dead sleep.

‘I’m sorry I’m calling so late’ he said, not sounding sorry at all. ‘I just wanted to hear your voice. I can’t seem to get to sleep.’

‘What time is it anyway?’ 

‘A little after midnight...’ Peter’s deep, sensuous voice replied. ‘I was just... well, I was lying here, thinking of you...’

‘Peter Burke!’ El said with a soft laugh. ‘You naughty boy.’

Peter returned the chuckle as he stretched out on the bed. ‘Sorry, I should have waited until morning to call. How are things going over there?’

Elizabeth curled up, arms wrapped around her pillow. ‘Actually, Hope is doing a lot better. I think she’s starting to respond to the antibiotics. She even had some mac and cheese for dinner and she wasn’t nearly as cranky by the time we put her to bed.’

‘What about Sara? How’s she doing?’ he asked.

El chuckled. ‘She’s being Sara... times ten... feeling miserable and running a high fever.’

‘Ouch!’ Peter joked. Sara was fiery at the best of times. If she was feeling miserable, she was no doubt even more intense than usual.

‘But they’ve both been asleep for a couple of hours now and I haven't heard a peep so I guess that’s good news’ she said sleepily. ‘Now if I could just get my husband to stop calling me in the middle of the night...’

‘Aww, I’m sorry honey. I just... I miss you and I can’t wait to get home.’

Elizabeth smiled at the sound of his voice. ‘Same here. What did the doctor say? Can Neal leave the hospital?’

‘When I left him at around 10:00, the doctor still hadn't showed up but I know Neal’s eager to testify so we can get the hell out of here.’

‘Honey, be patient’ El said. ‘We’ll all get through this.’

Peter listened to the voice of reason as he finally began to unwind. ‘You always know what to say...’ he murmured.

‘I love you, honey’ El whispered. Peter felt his eyes drift shut.

WCWCWC

‘Excuse me. Ma’am?’ Sara heard from very far away.

‘Ma’am?’ the flight attendant repeated. ‘We’ve landed in Lansing.’

Sara frowned. It seemed she had just closed her eyes a moment before and here they were, more than an hour and a half later.

‘Are you sure?’ she whispered as the young lady gave her a strange look.

‘Do you need help to deplane?’ she asked politely.

‘No...’ Sara managed to say, the pain in her throat seemingly worse than before.

She was overdue for some pain relief but she soldiered on, getting to her feet unsteadily as she held on to the back of her seat and grabbed sluggishly for her overnight bag. She could feel her blouse sticking to her back and she shivered, realizing her temperature had risen while she slept.

In a daze, she followed the young woman to the exit and floated down the narrow hallway towards the concourse, barely feeling her legs. She stumbled and anyone watching might have been forgiven for thinking she’d had one too many vodka martinis on the short flight. Her legs moved shakily and for a brief moment, she had to remind herself of where she was and what she was doing there.

Neal... That’s why she was here. Neal was hurt and he needed her.

Her throat was parched and she grabbed for the empty water bottle, frowning at the recollection of having finished it off earlier. She walked into the airport arrival lounge and spotted a water fountain, right by the washrooms and she put down her bag, searching frantically through her purse for some pain relief.

She couldn't stop now and she popped three capsules of extra strength Tylenol instead of the usual two, hoping the extra medication would carry her through to her destination.

She looked around, trying to get her bearings in an unfamiliar setting. Everyone seemed to be heading in the same direction and Sara followed suit, hoping to find her way out of what had become a maze of hallways.

The sight of taxicabs all lined up in a row was reassuring and before she knew it, an older man was grabbing the suitcase from her hand and opening the back door of his cab for her. She stumbled inside, shivering against the cold and held her purse tightly against her chest. She wasn't even aware of the front door to the cab slamming shut until the man spoke up, breaking the silence.

‘Where to, lady?’ the driver asked as she sat, blankly staring ahead.

‘Lady?’ he repeated.

‘What?’ Sara asked as she reconnected with reality. ‘Ummm, hospital...’ she said listlessly.

The driver gave her a dirty look. ‘Which hospital, lady?’

Sara closed her eyes tightly, trying to recall the name of the hospital Neal had been taken to. McNally... McMillan... McAuley... McDowell...

‘McLaren’ she declared in victory, her voice cutting in and out.

She watched as the older man rolled his eyes at her in the rearview mirror.

WCWCWC

‘Momma! Momma!’ Hope cried out as she ran into her own bedroom to find her auntie Elizabeth sound asleep.

‘Momma!’ she repeated louder.

‘Hope, honey what’s the matter?’ El asked as she came to.

‘Pipi bed’ the child moaned as she attempted to pull off the soaked diaper Sara had put on her as a preventative measure.

Although daytime accidents were rare for Hope these days, she still struggled with staying dry at night and with the fever she’d been running the last couple of days, wearing a diaper to bed had been a necessary precaution, especially considering the new duvet cover Sara had recently invested in for the master bedroom.

‘Awww, baby, come here’ Elizabeth said as she sat up on the edge of the bed.

Hope began to moan in discomfort as she finally removed the soaked diaper and held it out at arms length.

‘It’s okay’ El said reassuringly. ‘We’ll get you all cleaned up. Did you wet the bed?’

Hope nodded as she began to cry softly. ‘It’s okay, sweetheart. We’ll get you washed up and we’ll change the sheets. Is Mommy still sleeping?’

Hope stared at her blankly and, without hesitation, El scooped her up in her arms and carried her into the bathroom, sitting her on the toilet and getting a warm facecloth to clean her up.

‘How are you feeling, sweetie?’ she asked as she worked. ‘Are you feeling a little bit better?’

‘Momma?’ Hope said, in response.

‘Mommy’s sleeping, honey. We need to let her get some rest.’

Hope stared back quizzically and held up her hands in the gesture Neal always used when she’d managed to finish everything on her plate.

‘Momma all gone’ she said as El glanced at her.

‘Mommy’s sleeping’ Elizabeth whispered. ‘Let’s be quiet so we don’t wake her up.’

Hope frowned. ‘Momma all gone’ she repeated.

WCWCWC

The lobby of the McLaren Orthopedic Hospital was quiet at 3:30 on this Thursday morning, save for a cleaner buffing the hallway and a man who sat there, fiddling with his phone.

The main door opened and in walked a second young man who wasted no time in taking a seat next to the phone fiddler.

‘Anything?’ he asked cryptically.

‘No. There’s still some junior g-man keeping an eye on Caffrey’s room’ answered the first man.

‘The boss wants us to stick with it - for now’ the new arrival said, rolling his eyes.

‘I hear he’s furious especially since Billy Boy turned on him. That guy had better have good health insurance’ the first guy said with a twisted laugh.

He stood, stretching his legs. His shift was over and not a moment too soon. ‘So, keep a low profile and report to the boss if anything breaks’ he reminded the new arrival.

The front door opened wide in a gust of wind and in traipsed a beautiful redhead dragging an overnight bag behind her. She was definitely on a mission and she flew by the two men without giving them a second look as she trudged to the elevator. Her appearance, unexpected at such an unusual hour, forced the men to carefully scrutinize her, at first admiring her tall slim body and look of determination.

‘Wait a minute’ one of the men said as he brought up a photograph from his phone. ‘That was Caffrey’s wife.’

‘What?’ the second man said as he stood to look at the picture. ‘I thought their wives were back in New York.’

The first man shrugged. ‘I’ll call it in’ he said.

WCWCWC

If the main lobby and elevator had been quiet, the third floor of the institution was even more so. Lights were dimmed and except for some hushed whispers, everything was eerily quiet as nursing staff caught up on paper work and patients slept.

The whooshing sound of the elevator door opening followed by the clanging of Sara’s suitcase as she dragged it behind her, attracted the attention of the nurse on duty. Visiting hours were long over and except for the cleaners meandering around the hospital getting things ready for the new day, the halls were silent and empty.

‘Can I help you?’ the nurse asked the frazzled young woman who had appeared before her.

‘My name is Sara Ellis. I’m here to see my husband, Neal Caffrey.’ Sara said, her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

She could feel the sweat running down her back - no doubt as a result of the fast pace at which she’d been moving since she’d exited the cab. Her head swam from the insistent fever she was still running and she latched onto the edge of the counter to steady herself. She was a mess but she was finally here and all she wanted was to lay eyes on Neal and finally put her mind at ease.

She could tell by the frown on the nurse’s face that this was a most unusual request and the young woman pulled out Neal’s file, her eyes perusing the information before looking back into Sara’s wild eyes.

‘I see here that you called earlier’ she said tentatively. ‘Mr. Caffrey is... well, he’s under police protection’ she said pointing to the man snoozing on a chair in front of the room that was directly across from where they both stood.

‘I’ll have to check with my supervisor...’ she began as Sara’s eyes locked on the room across the way. She could see the foot of the bed, obviously occupied and she dropped her suitcase and walked directly towards the room, intent on barging right in, with or without permission.

The sound of her overnight bag hitting the linoleum floor echoed in the hallway and the guard who had been dozing right outside Neal’s room startled as Sara walked resolutely towards him, ignoring his pleas to stop. She made it through the doorway just as he grabbed her arm to keep her from entering and the commotion roused Neal who’d been sound asleep.

He struggled to sit up to see what all the commotion was about and he let out a loud gasp at the sight of his wife standing there, like a mirage. It _had_ to be a dream yet he could feel the pain in his chest, a sure sign that he was all too awake.

‘Sara?’ he called out, eyes wide as he stared at her standing there, wavering.

Sara opened her mouth to speak and suddenly her legs gave out from under her and she began to slither to the ground as Neal’s bodyguard attempted to break her fall.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

Elizabeth crouched in front of Hope as the toddler sat on the toilet with her spindly legs dangling off the edge.

‘Finished with your pipi?’ she asked as she ran her hand through her matted hair. Hope nodded and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

‘Let’s go change the sheets on Mommy and Daddy’s bed’ El said as she helped her goddaughter off the toilet.

She held her tiny hand and the two of them crossed the hallway over to Neal and Sara’s bedroom. Elizabeth hated to disturb Sara but the bed needed changing if there was any chance of Hope going back to sleep and it certainly beat having Sara turn over in bed and finding herself in the middle of an unfortunate wet spot.

‘Sara?’ Elizabeth murmured softly. ‘Sorry to do this to you - ’ she began as she turned on the bedside lamp.

Her eyes were instantly drawn to the empty bed, not quite sure what to make of it. ’Where’s Mommy?’ she asked out loud, panic obvious in her voice.

Hope frowned at the question. She’d been trying to tell her godmother that her mommy was gone for the past five minutes.

‘Oh, no!’ El cried out as she noticed the note on Sara’s pillow. ‘She didn’t!’

WCWCWC

The commotion in Neal’s hospital room led to a flurry of activity as nurses congregated to deal with the latest emergency. Sara’s arrival and subsequent collapse seemed to have mobilized everyone on the ward, not the least of which was Neal who struggled to get out of bed.

‘I need a gurney in here, stat!’ one of the nurses called out.

‘Sara!’ Neal cried out as he managed to get to his feet, holding on tightly to his chest in an attempt to minimize the piercing pain.

‘Mr. Caffrey, you need to get back into bed’ said one of the nurses as she took his arm.

‘No, that’s my wife’ Neal said as he got closer. ‘What’s wrong with her?’

‘Mr. Caffrey, please... just step back and let us have a look.’

Neal stumbled back and settled on the edge of the bed, eyes glued on Sara who was now making some soft moaning sounds as she was lifted onto a gurney with the help of Steve, the guy who’d been assigned to keep him under surveillance. Neal made a move to get up again as the night nurse stood directly in front of him, blocking his way.

‘Just give us a minute to figure out what’s going on and then you can see her’ the woman explained in response to the look of pure shock on Neal’s face.

He wasn't given an opportunity to respond. Before he could react, Sara was whisked away and he watched her disappear down the hallway, stunned by what had just happened. His breathing grew rapid and with each new breath, the pain in his ribs intensified, further limiting his movements. He sat, holding his side and staring out into the hallway at the familiar suitcase which lay just outside his room.

What the hell had just happened? What was Sara doing there in the first place and why had she collapsed right in front of his eyes? Neal worked to steady his breathing and calm his mind. He needed to remain calm if they were going to let him anywhere near her. After what seemed like an eternity, one of the nursing staff returned with a wheelchair.

‘They’ve taken her to the ER. If you want, I can take you down to see her’ she offered.

Neal looked down at the wheelchair with disdain. ‘I can walk just fine.’

The older nurse just stared him down. ‘I’m sure you can but it’s the chair or not at all’ she stated unequivocally as Neal gave in and climbed aboard for the short ride down to the first floor emergency room.

The nurse removed his IV bag from the stationary pole by his bed and hung it on the one attached to the chair and Neal gratefully accepted the second gown she handed him so he could do a better job of covering his exposed backside. He moved quickly, despite the pain; he couldn't get to Sara soon enough.

Things were relatively quiet down in the ER, although nowhere near as quiet as they had been on the ward. There were nurses walking around and doctors popping in and out of the various cubicles, evaluating patients and tending to their needs.

The nurse pushed him resolutely towards one of the cubicles and pulled back the curtain revealing Sara lying there, confused, as a grey-haired woman hovered over her.

‘It’s nothing’ Sara was saying, her voice hoarse. ‘I have strep throat and I think I just let myself get dehydrated.’

‘Sara!’ Neal called out as he was wheeled in and brought close to her bed.

‘Neal… I’m sorry’ she mumbled. ‘That was _not_ the entrance I was going for.’

The doctor continued her examination while Neal watched, dumbfounded.

‘Temperature 104.1’ the woman said to the attending nurse who took notes. ‘Any chance you’re pregnant?’ she asked as she turned to speak to Sara.

‘No’ she replied as Neal reached for her hand and squeezed.

‘Start her on fluids and give her 800 milligrams of acetaminophen and 30 milligrams of codeine’ the emergency room doctor instructed as she stepped away from the bed.

‘Have you started on antibiotics?’ she asked as a speechless Neal listened. Antibiotics... fluids... dehydration... this was all news to him.

‘I started... yesterday morning’ Sara said pointing to her purse.

‘All right, let’s keep her under observation for now’ the doctor declared before moving away. ‘You’ve got a very aggressive strep infection and it’s spread to your ears. We’ll get you hydrated and you should start feeling better in no time’ she explained. ‘Just try to get some rest.’

Neal sat there, otally stunned by the unexpected turn of events. ‘What the hell’s going on?’ he asked once he and Sara were finally alone.

‘I was so worried about you...’ she began, her voice raspy.

She reached out and touched his face, causing him to wince in reply. ‘Oh my god, Neal, look what they did to you.’

‘It looks worse than it is’ he lied, hoping to placate her.

He shook his head in exasperation as he began to come to terms with what had just happened.

‘You’re crazy, you know that? You just about gave me a heart attack!’ he said with a soft smile. ‘Are you telling me you slipped the FBI’s surveillance and flew all the way here to take care of _me_ when you’re this sick?’

She let out a plaintive moan. ‘I’m sorry... I know it was stupid but I was so worried about you and I just had to see you for myself.’

Neal let out a strained laugh as he shook his head. ‘And you say _I’m_ impulsive?’ he said, running his hand down her cheek.

She shrugged; he was right. This _was_ crazy and reckless and she’d made it all the worse by showing up unannounced and passing out right in front of her ailing husband. At the moment, though, she couldn't be happier, despite the state in which she’d found him.

‘You should be in your hospital bed, resting’ she blubbered as he brought his lips to her fevered forehead.

‘Don’t worry about it’ he whispered. ‘I’m exactly where I want to be. You just rest, okay?’

The nurse returned and set up an IV complete with pain medication and fluids and by the time she finished, Sara was fighting to keep her eyes open.

WCWCWC

Elizabeth sat with Hope on her lap, reading the note Sara had left with her mouth hanging open.

_Dear El,_

_You’re probably not thrilled with me at the moment. I’m sorry for leaving you on your own with Hope. I would have given you a heads up but we both know you would have done anything, short of locking me up, to keep me from going to see Neal. I only have one thing to say in my defence. What if this was Peter?_

_Donna Mason is on standby to give you a hand with child care and I’ll call you in the morning to let you know I arrived safely. Don’t worry. Thank you for being there for Hope._

_Sara_

‘Mommy gone?’ Hope asked as she looked up at her godmother, eyes wide.

‘Yes, sweetie. Mommy went to take care of Daddy’ El explained as Hope started to cry softly, more in reaction to Elizabeth’s horrified face than anything else.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay. Auntie Elizabeth’s here’ she said, shell shocked.

She had this precious little girl to think about and she turned her attention to Hope who was curled up in her lap, sniffling.

‘How about we change the sheets and you and I can cuddle in Mommy and Daddy’s bed together?’

WCWCWC

‘Mr. Caffrey’ Neal heard as the curtain moved.

He’d been sitting there, watching Sara sleep for the past fifteen minutes and despite the pain he was in, he didn't want to move from her side. Apparently, she’d been covering up the fact that both she and Hope had been hit with a particularly virulent strain of strep throat and that, even though Hope seemed to be recovering nicely, Sara was having difficulty fighting off the infection.

‘Doctor...’ Neal replied to the woman standing there. ‘She finally fell asleep.’

‘The nurse mentioned you wanted to see me’ the doctor said.

‘Yeah, I wanted to mention that Sara’s recuperating from six rounds of chemotherapy for ovarian cancer.’

The woman took the seat next to him and nodded earnestly.

‘Well, that might explain why she’s reacted so strongly to the infection. Her immune system is still compromised. I think we should try her on a different type of antibiotic so she can better fight that ear infection as well.’

She studied Neal’s face, reasonably certain that the lines on his forehead were not strictly due to the pain in his ribs. She watched as he gently removed Sara’s wig and set it aside, running his hand lovingly through the darker, wavy hair hidden underneath.

‘Do you think… My wife is really... proud’ he said, struggling to find the right word. ‘She’d be horrified to be seen without her wig but she wears a woolen cap to sleep and her suitcase is upstairs on the third floor...’

‘Why don’t I get someone to bring that down for you?’ she said kindly as she touched his arm.

Neal’s eyes returned to Sara’s face and the woman’s heart went out to the two of them.

‘Look, technically, I should be insisting you go back to your room but... well, would you like me to have them set up a bed here next to your wife so you can stay with her?’

Neal cleared his throat to cover up his emotions and avoided the woman’s gaze, embarrassed by the tears forming in his eyes.

‘That would be... great’ he said, his voice tight.

WCWCWC

‘El! El! Slow down. I can’t understand a word you’re saying!’ Peter groaned into the phone. 

The fact that she’d just been woken him from a dead sleep didn't help; Elizabeth sounded downright hysterical.

‘She’s gone Peter. Sara left!’ Elizabeth repeated.

‘What do you mean ‘left’?’ he asked as he sat up and tried to get his bearings.

‘She went to find you. In Lansing.’

‘What? Oh great!’ Peter murmured sarcastically as he finally clued in to what was going on. ‘How could you have let her leave?’

Elizabeth sighed and Peter realized his gratuitous comment wasn't helping the situation.

‘I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean that. Tell me what happened.’

‘Hope got up just before six and when I went in there, Sara was gone and she left a note saying she was going to find Neal.’

‘How did she slip by Jones’ men?’ Peter asked just as he clued in this was Sara Ellis they were talking about. ‘Never mind. What time do you think she left?’

‘I have no idea’ Elizabeth answered as she retraced the events from the night before.

‘I went to bed at 10:00 and then you and I talked around midnight and then we all slept through... well, I thought we all slept through but she could have left anytime after I went to bed.’

Peter was already pulling on some clothes. Was she still in transit? Was she already at the hospital with Neal? Hopefully, she hadn't gotten herself into any trouble on the flight over.

‘Honey, don't worry. None of this is your fault. Are you okay for now?’ Peter asked.

‘I guess...’ Elizabeth answered. ‘I’ve got to keep it together for Hope’s sake. Sara did say she’d call when she got there but...’

‘All right. I’m heading over to the hospital right now and I’ll call you back as soon as I find out what’s going on. If she calls you, call me back.’

WCWCWC

By early morning, the saga of the two lovebirds was the talk of the emergency room and newly arrived staff were taking turns peeking into cubicle 12 to see for themselves.

A second bed had been set up alongside Sara’s and the couple lay, side by side both hooked up to their respective IVs as they slept peaceful after an eventful night. Neal had settled in on his right side and, with the help of some potent pain meds, had managed to fall asleep as he held Sara’s hand tightly in his. She lay on her back, finally getting the restful sleep her body so badly needed but had been denied overnight.

Three floors above, Peter Burke was having conniptions as he arrived to find Neal’s room empty and the assigned guard nowhere to be found.

‘Agent Burke’ one of the nurses said as she stepped into the room. ‘Mr. Caffrey is down in emergency.’

‘Emergency? Why? Did something happen?’

‘His wife showed up in the middle of the night and she was taken to emergency when she passed out. He’s down there with her.’

Peter let out a sigh of relief. At least Sara had made it safely to destination although her condition was still a giant question mark. Without a word of thanks, Peter was gone, anxious to set eyes on the two of them for himself.

The elevator was too slow for his liking and Peter hoofed it down the staircase, arriving in the ER out of breath. Within seconds, he was directed to cubicle 12 where, like the constant parade of people before him, he found the young couple side by side, sound asleep.

‘They’re cute, aren’t they?’ he heard a young female voice whisper behind him.

‘Yeah, real cute!’ he replied sarcastically.

He wanted to throttle Sara for what she’d done and give Neal a good tongue lashing for not calling him and telling him what was going on the minute she showed up.

‘They’re like Romeo and Juliet’ she added with a lovesick sigh.

Peter rolled his eyes at the comment from the lovestruck young nurse who probably made it a habit to read Harlequin romances during her coffee breaks. Instead of responding to her inane comment, he turned around and smiled at her.

‘Who can I talk to about...’ he asked, pointing to the pair who was still snoozing blissfully.

She directed him to the nurses’ station and Peter wasted no time marching over there to get the lowdown on the two patients.

‘Mr. Caffrey is being released this morning and Mrs. Caffrey is just waiting for the doctor to make her rounds but I think she’ll be released as well’ the senior nurse explained.

‘And what about the bodyguard?’ Peter asked as the woman shrugged.

She scrunched up her nose in reply. ’I don’t know anything about a bodyguard’ she said as she returned to her paperwork.

Peter’s blood began to boil and he stepped out of the ER, into the nearby hallway in order to call Geoffrey Merton - despite the fact it was just past 6:30 in the morning.

‘Which part of ‘around the clock protection’ did you not understand?’ Peter shouted into his phone when the man answered, his voice sleepy.

‘What are you talking about?’ Merton asked. ‘And good morning, by the way.’

‘Neal’s bodyguard seems to have done a runner and now his wife is here as well - without any protection’ Peter blurted out.

‘Whoa, whoa, Burke! LPD was helping us out with the manpower. Let me look into it’ the man explained. ‘So, what are the chances that Caffrey can testify today?’

Peter was too angry to respond. ‘I’ll get back to you’ he spat out before hanging up. 

WCWCWC

Elizabeth handed Clinton a cup of coffee while Hope sat, nearby, making a colossal mess out of a banana and a bowl of vanilla yogurt.

‘How the hell did she do it?’ El asked as Jones walked over to the patio door and glanced into the Caffreys’ backyard.

‘From what I can see, she waded through knee deep snow and crossed over to the yard next door’ he commented as he walked back to the table and took a seat.

El let out an exasperated sigh. ‘In her condition... you should have seen her, she was running a fever and barely able to stand on her own two feet.’

‘Well, at least we know she made it safely to Michigan.’

‘Yeah well, she’s in the emergency room, being treated. I’m not sure that qualifies as ‘safely’.

‘So, was Peter pissed off... at me?’ Jones asked, always eager to please his boss.

‘No’ Elizabeth replied as Hope cooed nearby. ‘He’s not mad at you. He’s pretty pissed off at Sara though, for doing something so foolish and dangerous.’

Clinton shrugged. ‘Look, most times, criminals make threats just to throw you off kilter. The chances are minimal that Wilkes has any intention of hurting any one of you.’

‘Hurting’ Hope repeated and El gave Jones a sideways glance.

‘The walls have ears’ she commented as the phone rang.

‘Caffrey residence’ she said as she heard a familiar voice come on the line.

Her face lit up and she turned to look at Hope, who had spread banana mush all over the table and had a face full of yogurt.

‘It’s for you, Hope. It’s your daddy!’

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

Once he’d hung up from talking to Geoffrey Merton, Peter made his way back to the emergency room to check on Neal and Sara. If Neal was being released from the hospital, he’d be eager to head to court to give his testimony and it was Peter’s job to make sure Neal didn't overestimate his stamina so soon after the ordeal he’d been through. Coming face to face with Wilkes wouldn't be easy for Neal. The man represented everything Neal had learned to despise about the life - the sordidness, the wanton disregard for human life, the notion that the ends always justified the means, no matter who got hurt in the process.

As he inched closer to cubicle 12, Peter could hear the sound of Neal’s voice, soft and dulcet, and he stopped short of pulling open the curtain, choosing instead to peek inside to see who he was talking to.

‘Hey sweet pea, it’s Daddy...’ he heard Neal whisper as he glanced behind the curtain.

Neal was sitting up in a chair by Sara’s bed, holding the phone with one hand while he gently caressed her hand with the other. He spoke softly as Sara looked on, eyes fluttering as she fought sleep. Peter leaned in to listen, careful not to disturb the quiet moment. As exasperated as he was with both Caffreys at the moment, when it came to Hope, he was guaranteed to melt into a puddle of goo, every single time.

‘Are you being a good girl for Auntie Elizabeth?’ he heard Neal ask, followed by a brief silence.

‘A banana? Did you eat it or did you play with it?’ Neal teased. Alas, the man knew his daughter all too well.

‘I miss you, honey’ Neal said, his voice growing serious and perhaps just a little bit shaky.

‘Momma’s here’ he added, recovering from the brief flash of emotion. He brought the phone up against Sara’s ear and held it there for her as she spoke.

‘Hi sweetie’ Sara moaned listlessly. ‘Are you feeling better this morning?’

Through the gap in the curtain, Peter spied his best friend studying the forced smile on Sara’s face and smiling sadly himself as he watched his wife lying there, so frail and vulnerable. Neal’s face grew dark, his gaze distant and tormented and the sight reminded Peter of the long, painful months he and Sara had endured as she’d valiantly fought for her life.

Neal recovered quickly and brought the phone back to his ear just as Peter pulled away from the curtain, fearing he might get caught eavesdropping.

‘Hope? Mommy and Daddy love you very much and we’ll be home soon, okay?’ Neal murmured.

Without the benefit of having him in his sights, Peter could only imagine the look of emotion on Neal’s face as he said goodbye to his precious little girl. Being away from her had been more difficult than expected for his best friend.

Silence ensued and Peter peeked in to find Neal gently whispering something in Sara’s ear and leaning in to kiss her forehead as they shared a brief moment of intimacy. Peter cleared his throat, announcing his arrival, and he pulled back the curtain decisively.

‘Romeo!’ he called out, instantly breaking the mood. ‘You’re awake!’ 

Neal gave him a look of total confusion and Peter waved him off - no need to go there. For all the annoyance and frustration he’d been feeling just a few short moments before, it was hard to stay mad at Neal when he looked so broken and vulnerable.

‘So, I see you had an unexpected visitor overnight’ Peter stated rather unnecessarily as he glanced at Sara on the bed.

The usually sassy insurance investigator gave him a weak smile but didn't speak - a sure sign she was really out of it.

‘And she’s just about to nod off again’ Neal said as he brought his lips to Sara’s eyelids, depositing a soft kiss.

‘Sleep, baby’ he whispered. ‘I’ll be right here when you wake up.’

Her eyes instantly fluttered shut and Neal grunted as he struggled to get out of the chair, no small feat, as it happened. He joined Peter a few feet away, falling short of stepping out of the cubicle where he might be spotted by anyone who happened by - hospital wear which showed off his knobby knees and naked backside was certainly not Neal Caffrey’s preferred attire in a public place.

‘Sorry I didn't call you’ he murmured. ‘Sara showed up at around 3:30 and she passed out right in front of me. Needless to say, it’s been a busy night.’

Peter frowned as he listened; even though he was pissed off at Sara for pulling such a crazy stunt, his anger was somewhat mitigated by his concern for her wellbeing.

‘The doctor thinks she’s having trouble fighting the infection because of the remnants of chemo and apparently, she let herself get rundown and dehydrated on the way here. Now, the infection’s spread from her throat to her ears - the doctor hopes she didn't do any irreparable damage by flying.’

‘No wonder you didn't call, you had your hands full’ Peter remarked.

He brought his hand to rest on his best friend’s shoulder, any perceived slight on Neal’s part magically forgiven and forgotten.

Neal’s eyes moved back to check on Sara, lying peacefully on the bed.

‘Good news, though’ he announced. ‘Dr. Godfrey gave me a clean bill of health.’

Peter stared warily; Neal was anything but the picture of health with his bruised, swollen face and inability to stand upright for more than a minute at a time.

‘All right, fine...’ Neal conceded, in response to Peter’s look of skepticism. ‘Clean bill of health might be a _slight_ exaggeration’ he admitted. ‘But I _am_ being released this morning... and I want to testify. Today.’

‘Are you sure you’re up to it?’ Peter asked, worry clouding his face.

‘Look, I may not be as sharp as I usually am’ he began as Peter gave him a dubious look. ‘But I can certainly hold my own and sit in the witness box for a couple of hours if it helps bring down that scumbag.’

‘I just don’t want you pushing yourself before you’re ready. We can give it one more day if —’

‘No!’ Neal said adamantly. ‘Peter, I just want to get this over with. I need to get Sara home and I want to get back to Hope...’

Peter nodded. He was more than eager to get home himself and it was tempting to get it all over with as soon as possible and return to Elizabeth’s waiting arms.

WCWCWC

By mid-morning, Sara had been released from hospital on condition she get plenty of rest, take her prescribed medication every four hours and drink lots of liquids. She’d been instructed to see her doctor the moment they got back to New York and the emergency room physician had strongly recommended she not fly for fear of further damaging her eardrums - which left the very unappealing option of having to drive back to New York once Neal and Peter had finished their business in Lansing.

After a short detour to the local market to pick up some provisions, the threesome headed back to the hotel where Sara was settled in bed after being cajoled into consuming a lemon ginger concoction Neal had prepared to help soothe her throat - one of the few comforting holdovers from the ex-con’s less than ideal childhood.

Peter had given up on the less than stellar protection Neal had gotten at the hospital and he’d opted to contact the local FBI field office to have them send someone over to stand guard outside their hotel room while he and Neal headed to court. The poor performance by the junior LPD police officer had fallen well short of Peter’s exacting standards and the young man, who had seen fit to snooze while on the job, had been called on the carpet by his superiors after making the poor judgement to leave the scene once Neal had been moved to the ER.

Peter and Neal took turns showering and dressed for their return to court while Sara snoozed nearby. The shower did wonders for Neal who found himself enjoying the unusual combination of discomfort and relief as the hot, soothing spray of water washed over his battered ribs. The more he moved around, the stronger he began to feel, emboldened by his mission to take down Ryan Wilkes, once and for all.

All the while, Peter kept his eye on Neal, looking for those subtle signs that he might be pushing too hard but all he saw was the Neal he knew and loved, coming back to life, unwilling to let his little encounter with Wilkes’ thugs dampen his resolve.

‘I’ll wait for you in the car’ Peter said as Neal gave himself a last appraising glance in the mirror. Except for the painful - and colourful - bruising around his nose, he’d managed to pull himself together and with the help of his pain meds, he was feeling functional and looking his usual dapper self in a dark suit and striped dress shirt.

‘I’m sorry...’ Sara croaked as she watched him fiddle with his tie.

Neal moved over to sit on the edge of the bed and his heart broke at the sight of her, her voice weak and her eyes sunken and watery from the persistent pain and fever.

‘Well, I’m sorry you’re feeling so horrible but... I’m _not_ sorry you came’ he said as he leaned in and ran his hand gently down her cheek. ‘It was very sweet of you to come all this way just to check on me.’

She gave him a sardonic laugh and an eye roll. ‘Yeah, ’cause that worked out so well!’

Neal chuckled and shrugged. ‘Well, you get full points for persistence, I’ll give you that. Now you get some rest and with any luck, you’ll be feeling the effects of those antibiotics before long.’

She nodded and let her eyes momentarily flutter shut.

Neal continued, his voice soft and reassuring. ’And remember, you’ve got Chuck right outside the door if you need anything. If you need me, let him know and I’ll come running.’

‘Isn’t that overkill?’ she said, her voice gravelly. ‘I doubt Wilkes is going to send someone over to rough me up while I’m safely tucked away in bed in a hotel room.’ 

Neal raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side as he pointed to his own, battered face in response.

‘Point taken’ Sara said, her voice gruff.

He frowned as she shivered and he pulled the warm blanket all the way up to her neck, tucking it in meticulously on either side of her body. ‘Are you sure you’re going to be okay?’

‘Neal, stop it. I don’t need you fussing like this over me’ she whined rather unconvincingly.

He made a point of ignoring her and leaned down to softly kiss her lips. ‘All you have to do today is sleep and concentrate on getting better. You let _me_ take care of the rest’ he reminded her.

Sara nodded weakly and sighed. ‘You go get him, tiger... and don’t worry about me. Besides, I’ve got my trusty baton right here’ she said as she pointed to her nearby purse.

Neal shook his head in exasperation. She was crazy, over the top, the most exasperating woman he’d ever met and she managed to push all his buttons, all the time.

‘I love you, Repo’ he whispered in a nasal voice that was far from his usually sensuous tone.

‘Love _you_. Be careful, Caffrey.’

And with that, Neal stood and she watched him walk away, the soft click of the door being locked the last sound she heard before drifting off to sleep once again.

WCWCWC

Neal and Peter sat in the small meeting room alongside the DA’s team as they waited for court to reconvene.

‘We really appreciate you doing this, Neal’ Geoffrey Merton said. ‘Especially under the... circumstances.’

Neal gave him what was meant to be a smile but turned out looking more like a grimace, considering the swelling and discolouration on his face.

Even though his body was battered and sore, there was something about being dressed in his usual ‘Caffrey’ attire that made him feel more confident, less vulnerable, somehow. The drugs helped dull the pain and he forced himself to stay focussed despite that inevitable haziness around the edges caused by the medication. There was no way he was letting Wilkes get into his head. He wanted to be able to face him squarely, without fear of retribution. He owed it not only to Lindsey Gless and her family but to that poor young boy who’d been caught, like so many others, in Ryan Wilkes web of deceit and violence.

‘You’re the first witness I’m calling and I...’ Merton began as Neal cut him off with a wave of his hand.

‘It’s okay. I’ve got this’ Neal said with all the confidence he could muster.

WCWCWC

The unexpected sound of the doorbell echoed through the Caffrey house and Hope looked up at her godmother with her bright blue eyes and a broad smile - a far cry from the way she’d looked a mere 48 hours earlier. Company was always a good thing, the toddler had learned. When that doorbell rang, it meant something new and exciting was about to happen and she jumped off the couch where the two of them had been curled up with a book and began to run briskly towards the front door.

‘Hope, wait for me’ El called out as she took off after her.

Jones’ men were still watching the house so whoever was at the door had likely been properly vetted by the agents on duty but just to be sure, Elizabeth peeked out from behind the curtain to take a look for herself.

Satisfied, she gave the newcomer a big smile and opened the door to welcome him in from the cold.

WCWCWC

The Wilkes case had garnered a fair bit of media coverage, considering the fact that the child who’d been abducted was the son of a prominent local businessman. Neal and Peter entered courtroom D, right behind the DA’s team and the two of them took a seat in the first row right behind Geoffrey Merton and his assistant, Shane Norris. Neal couldn't help but throw a furtive glance to his left, towards the defence table, which sat empty. Ryan Wilkes and his attorney would be coming in any minute and Neal took a couple of deep, painful breaths, preparing to come face to face with his ex-associate, a man he'd learned to despise.

To his right, sat the jury and Neal took the time to look into each juror’s face, trying to surmise what each one of them might be thinking. Although the nature of the crime was beyond horrendous, jurors were sworn to stand in fair and impartial judgement of the accused and conviction was only possible if the man was proven guilty without reasonable doubt. The burden of proof sat squarely on the shoulders of the state, making it crucial for the DA’s office to highlight every single shred of incriminating evidence... and making it vital for Neal to connect with the jury and establish his credibility during the short time he would be on the stand.

Neal flashed back to his own trial, years before. The only crime for which he’d been convicted was bond forgery and frankly, he was the first to admit he'd gotten off easy. He’d been guilty of so much more throughout the years as he’d traveled the globe without a care in the world: counterfeiting, securities fraud, art theft, racketeering. He swallowed hard, not so proud of the laundry list of his own crimes - especially those he’d carried out by Ryan Wilkes’ side.

He tried to refocus, telling himself that he was nothing like the man who was on trial, a man who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. It was a hard sell, though, and a flicker of guilt bubbled up deep inside Neal’s gut for the part he'd played in Wilkes’ crimes.

The door to the far left of the room opened and in walked Brian Purdy followed by Ryan Wilkes, looking dapper in a three piece suit. The man’s eyes searched the room and settled on Neal’s as the two men glared at each other for a moment, both unwilling to blink or be the first to look away.

Wilkes took his place at the defence table and leaned in to whisper something in his lawyer’s ear just as Peter gave Neal’s leg an encouraging tap.

‘You okay?’ he asked.

‘Peachy keen’ Neal said, tongue in cheek.

‘Just don't let him get inside your head’ Peter admonished, not for the first time.

Neal looked away and tried to concentrate on what he needed to do to make sure Wilkes was put away for good. Being grilled about his not so glorious past and having to confess to some of his own crimes was no walk in the park but it was the price to pay to get Wilkes locked up for the rest of his natural life.

WCWCWC

John ‘Bullseye’ McQuarrie checked his gun for the third time while his cohort sat on the bed next to him, watching a rerun of Duck Dynasty.

‘You’re not going to need that thing’ the man said as Bullseye brought his eyes up to look down the barrel of the gun. ‘The instructions are to scare the shit out of her and just deliver the message.’

Bullseye looked up and rolled his eyes. ‘You never know when things can go south’ he commented as he stretched his legs and returned to his weapon.

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

‘Mozzie!’ Elizabeth exclaimed as she opened the door. ‘What are _you_ doing here?’

‘I come bearing gifts’ Mozzie announced as he stepped in, arms laden with packages.

‘Uccle Moss!’ Hope shouted with glee. She threw her arms around the little man’s legs and he scooped her up, her arms reaching around his neck to give him an enthusiastic hug and momentarily knocking his glasses askew.

‘Gifts?’ Elizabeth repeated, surprised at the sight of her dear friend.

‘A little birdie told me you were under siege and getting a touch of cabin fever so I brought some entertainment... and some goodies’ Mozzie announced, jostling Hope in his arms.

‘Goodies!’ Hope echoed. That was a word she knew well. It included all the forbidden things her mom and dad didn't let her have and her bright blue eyes sparkled as Mozzie set her back down on the floor and ruffled her hair.

‘Well, I’m intrigued’ El said. ‘Come on in. We were just about to make some lunch, weren’t we, Hope?’

The child nodded enthusiastically and began poking around one of the large bags Mozzie had just brought in, pulling out a DVD and letting out a squeal. ‘Doggie!’

Mozzie and El looked down fondly at her.

‘That’s right, doggie’ Mozzie said. ‘And I’ve got a lot more surprises.’

WCWCWC

‘All rise!’ the clerk called out as chairs scraped on the floor and the entire room got to its feet.

It was just after 1:00 and a brutally long afternoon stretched ahead - especially for Neal who was front and centre as the first, and likely only, witness to be called by the state. There was a brief exchange of information between the parties and the judge before he called the court in session and asked the prosecution to call its first witness.

Neal took a couple of cleansing breaths, bracing against the now familiar twinge in his chest. He mentally went over the checklist they’d just discussed: maintain eye contact, give short succinct answers - no more than what was asked for and keep your cool, no matter what.

Upon hearing his name, Neal willed himself to stand without wavering. It was important to show he was coming from a position of strength, especially in the eyes of Ryan Wilkes who wanted nothing more than to see Neal weak and vulnerable - and had done all he could to render him that way.

Neal strolled purposefully towards the witness stand, walking right past the accused, his eyes squarely focussed ahead. He let out a silent grunt of pain as he let himself fall on the less than comfortable wooden chair and he gave Geoffrey Merton a confident, albeit understated, smile. This was no time for his over-the-top conman grin. The jury was likely to react negatively to anything that was perceived as insincere. His physical injuries were visible to all and though he didn't want to appear weak, they were a reminder to everyone in the room that Neal had been accosted by men who’d been under Wilkes’ orders to attack him.

‘Please state your name for the record’ the clerk asked as they prepared to swear him in.

‘Neal George Caffrey’ he said as he stared at Ryan Wilkes.

WCWCWC

Sara got up to use the bathroom and on the way back to bed, she made a small detour to grab another mugful of Neal’s medicinal concoction. She had gotten temporary relief from it earlier and Neal had insisted on making up a whole thermos of the soothing drink for her to have while they were in court.

He had very few happy memories of his youth living in St-Louis, under the watchful eye of the U.S. Marshalls, but somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, he recalled his mom preparing a mixture of hot water, honey, ginger and lemon whenever he was feeling under the weather. It always made him feel better although it was unclear whether it was due to the actual healing powers of the warm brew or simply the fact that his mom had taken the time to make it for him - either way, the soothing aroma brought back comforting memories, even to this day.

Sara let the hot, soothing drink coat her throat and she gave a soft moan at the sharp pain in her right ear as she swallowed - something that had gotten worse as the day wore on. She walked over to the door, peeking out through the peephole to see if the FBI agent who’d been assigned to watch her room was still there. All she could see was the man’s feet as he sat right outside the door; what was it with G-men and those unimaginative wingtips, she wondered.

She returned to bed and turned on the television, settling in under the blankets with the warm, soothing drink and thinking about the circumstances which had brought her to Lansing.

What a mess she’d made of things by coming all this way. She’d had no idea her health would deteriorate to this extent when she’d slipped out their backdoor and waded through the heavy snow the night before. She’d had all the confidence in the world that she would be feeling much better by the time she made it to Lansing, something that, alas, had not come to pass. After all, her intention had been to take care of Neal, not the other way around. All she’d wanted was to make sure he was getting the medical attention he needed and the loving care he deserved.

Of course, Neal had Peter watching over him and he’d had him in his life long before she’d come along. But she and Neal were committed life partners now, ever since that beautiful summer afternoon in June’s garden when they’d promised to stand by each other in good times and in bad. Neal had certainly lived up to his end of the bargain during their first two years of marriage. Just short of a year in, their commitment to each other had been sorely tested by the surprise appearance of a grapefruit sized mass on Sara’s left ovary. It was the first major challenge they’d faced in their short-lived marriage - surely not the last - and she hated the fact that she’d had to lean on Neal to get through those rough few months.

But she and Neal were equals in all things and the vows they’d taken were a two way street. Knowing he’d been seriously hurt had brought out an irrepressible impulse to go to him and nurse him back to health without regard for her own well-being or safety.

Now, to her chagrin, Neal - and Peter - were worried about _her_ at a time when they needed to concentrate on giving their testimony and helping to put a killer behind bars. She shook her head, annoyed at herself; she was _not_ , nor had she ever been, ‘that’ woman, the one whose identity was wrapped up in another person, the one who couldn't stand on her own two feet, the one who needed a man in her life to make her feel whole. And yet, here she was needing Neal’s support again at a time when he was just as badly in need of someone to stand by him.

She put down the cup and curled up under the warm blankets, letting the muted sound of the television wash over her and before long, sleep had claimed her once more.

WCWCWC

‘Mr. Caffrey, are you acquainted with Ryan Wilkes?’ Geoffrey Merton asked as he began to question Neal.

‘Yes, I am’ Neal responded, voice confident.

They had agreed to be up front about Neal’s relationship with Wilkes right out of the gate. The defence was going to try to discredit Neal’s testimony by bringing into question his intentions and more importantly, raising his checkered past. It was preferable to be on the offence and to get all the facts out in the open from the get go. There was no point in trying to re-write history; after all, the defence wouldn't hesitate to bring up every single sordid detail they could uncover about Neal Caffrey’s past.

‘How is it that you know Mr. Wilkes?’ Merton asked.

‘Our paths have crossed on a few occasions’ Neal said as he stared back at the man in question, looking cool as a cucumber.

‘When did you first meet him?’

‘I met him about twelve years ago in Chicago. We worked together on a couple of... projects’ Neal said, choosing his words carefully.

‘Can you be more specific?’ Merton asked as Neal braced himself to start spilling his guts out to a roomful of strangers.

‘I was introduced to him by an associate of mine and Mr. Wilkes suggested we work together on a theft he’d been planning to carry out.’ Neal said, none too proudly.

‘And did you? Work together?’ the prosecutor asked.

‘Yes. He did all the planning and I broke into the home we’d targeted when there was no one home and I stole some rare coins that were in a safe.’

‘Were either one of you arrested or convicted of that crime?’

‘No’ Neal answered succinctly.

‘Did you and Mr. Wilkes collaborate on any other... projects?’ Merton asked, a question he already knew the answer to.

‘Yes, we planned to hit the home of a prominent businessman but... we disagreed about how to go about it’ Neal said, rather cryptically.

‘What was the disagreement?’

‘Wilkes wanted me to carry a gun during the break-in. Just in case...’ he explained.

‘In case?’

‘In case someone was home. But I refused. We argued about it and we ended up doing it my way. But that’s when I realized he and I weren’t compatible and we never worked together after that.’

‘Was Mr. Wilkes angry with you?’

‘Yes’ Neal answered. ‘And to make matters worse, I disappeared after the break-in and I took the... proceeds with me.’

He glanced over at the defence table; he could see Wilkes seething as Neal recounted the story despite the fact it had happened a dozen years before. Ryan Wilkes had never been one to take kindly to being outsmarted.

‘Do you not like guns, Mr. Caffrey?’

‘No. I don’t’ Neal answered, self-assured.

‘Have you ever used a gun in carrying out any of the crimes you’ve committed?’ Geoffrey Merton asked.

‘No, I have not’ Neal responded adamantly.

Merton wandered around the room as he spoke, turning to the members of the jury, giving the odd glance towards Wilkes when he was trying to make a point. He wandered to the prosecution table, checking his notes before he continued. It was time to lay out Neal’s crimes for everyone to see.

‘Mr. Caffrey’ he said as he made his way to stand in front of Neal. ‘You’re a convicted felon, are you not?’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘And what were you convicted of?’ he asked.

Neal looked towards the jury, watching for their reaction. ’I was convicted of bond forgery.’

‘And how much time did you serve for your crime?’

‘I served just under the four years I was sentenced to - in a federal prison.’

‘Can you explain the circumstances surrounding your release?’ Merton asked.

‘I agreed to serve the remainder of my sentence working for the FBI... as an informant, advising them on matters related to forgery.’

‘This is the White Collar Division of the New York field office?’ Merton asked, searching for clarification.

‘Correct’ Neal stated.

‘Please use yes or no in your responses’ the judge reminded Neal. 

‘Yes’ he corrected.

‘And what exactly was your role at the FBI?’ Merton asked.

Neal gave a fleeting look in Peter’s direction. ‘I was assigned a handler and I was called in to consult on cases where forgery was suspected and generally helped out with cases where they needed my expertise.’

‘Isn’t it true, Mr. Caffrey that your role grew to encompass much more than consultation?’ Merton asked.

This was an opportunity for Neal to state for the record that he had worked directly on FBI cases and had been an important asset to the Bureau.

‘I worked alongside the agents on cases, sometimes I went undercover, made suggestions on ways to infiltrate crime rings, gave insight into how the perpetrators might behave.’

‘I think you’re being modest, Mr. Caffrey. Were you not given a letter of commendation for your work with the FBI?’ Merton asked.

‘I was. On two occasions’ Neal replied.

‘Agent Peter Burke was your handler, was he not?’

‘Yes, he was’ Neal said.

‘Agent Burke testified earlier that you became a vital part of his team and that you put your life on the line on more than one occasion in service to the Bureau.’

‘Objection, Your Honour!’ Wilkes’ lawyer yelled out. ‘We heard this testimony before from a previous witness. We get it, Mr. Caffrey’s a great guy.’

There were muted giggles throughout the courtroom and Neal took a second to glance at Peter who was smiling broadly. He knew of Peter’s appreciation for his work but he didn't know Peter had spoken on his behalf in his testimony.

‘Sustained. Do you have a question for the witness, Mr. Merton?’ the judge asked.

‘Yes, Your Honour, I do. How did _you_ see your role within the White Collar team, Mr. Caffrey?’

‘Except for the monitoring anklet I was required to wear, I felt... and I was treated like every other member of the team, no more, no less’ Neal explained.

Merton nodded. He'd managed to make the point that Neal had come a long way in his rehabilitation and was firmly on the right side of the law. The ex-CI’s credibility was essential if his testimony regarding Wilkes was to hold water.

‘Sir, did you have any encounters with the accused during your time working for the FBI?’ Merton asked, changing the subject.

Neal glanced over at Wilkes who sat there, unruffled. He knew the man enough to know he would never show any sign weakness and was always looking for a new angle whether on the attack or in retribution for any perceived slight towards him.

‘I did. I was called in to work with the kidnapping division to help on a case involving Mr. Wilkes’ Neal explained.

‘The kidnapping unit? That seems like a far cry from white collar crimes. Why were you involved in a kidnapping case?’ Merton asked.

‘It was ascertained that Mr. Wilkes was involved in the kidnapping and because of my previous relationship with him, I was asked to work with Agent Kimberly Rice to help bring him in’ Neal said, eyes on Wilkes.

‘Tell us about what happened while you were working on that case’ Merton asked.

‘Wilkes kidnapped a young girl and I was sent in to try to negotiate her release but he... he had me taken against my will. He tased me and dragged me into a van where he threatened to hurt me and the girl if I didn't do as he asked. He had decided to use me as a front man, to carry out a theft’ Neal explained.

‘A front man? What does that mean exactly?’

‘He didn't want any record of his direct involvement in the crime and sent me in so there wasn't any trace of him on security cameras and the like. That way, I’d be on the hook if the whole thing fell to pieces.’

‘And you carried out this crime?’

‘I did. He threatened to hurt the kidnap victim if I didn’t. And he threatened to hurt an innocent woman who was working at a travel agency if I didn't get information he wanted from her. He had a sniper on a rooftop across the way, ready to shoot her... So I carried it out as he asked while I waited for my partner... for Agent Burke and his team to locate the kidnap victim.’

‘And you were successful?’

‘Yes. The girl was returned, unharmed, to her family and Wilkes was arrested’ Neal said with a tone of pride that was only slightly diminished by the nasal quality of his voice.

It was time to show the jury that Neal was now an upstanding citizen and Geoffrey Merton turned his questioning towards the life Neal was now leading.

‘Mr. Caffrey, how long has it been since your sentence ended?’

‘My sentence was up in November, fifteen months ago’ Neal stated.

‘And have you had any dealings with the law over the past fifteen months?’ Merton asked.

‘No, I have not’ Neal declared.

‘And what is your present occupation?’

‘My wife and I have a two-year-old daughter and I’m presently the primary caregiver but I still freelance with the FBI and I’ve worked with a few insurance companies to help with art authentication’ Neal explained.

Merton nodded and walked over to the prosecution table, checking his notes before walking back to face Neal on the witness stand.

‘That’s all for the moment Your Honour’ he said as he smiled at Neal.

‘Mr. Purdy, would you like to cross examine the witness?’ the judge asked.

The defence lawyer stood, buttoning up his jacket. ‘Yes, Your Honour’ he said ominously.

WCWCWC

Sara woke to a soft knock at the door.

‘Mrs. Caffrey?’ she heard the FBI agent say. ‘I’ve got your husband on the phone.’

She had no idea how long she’d been out and she took a moment to stand, a little unsteadily, and made her way towards the sound of his voice.

A smile came to her lips; she wasn't going to be able to keep Neal from worrying about her no matter what and in fact, she didn't really want him to. She peeked out of the peephole, seeing those god-ugly shoes just as before and she slowly opened the door to speak to Chuck, her loyal bodyguard.

‘Why is he calling your -’ she began, staring down with surprise at the empty chair.

The shoes sat as before at the foot of the chair but instead of Chuck, sitting there, there were two younger men, hovering in the door frame and Sara noticed with alarm that one of them was waving a gun.

She moved quickly to close the door but the man instantly had his foot in the door jamb, keeping her from shutting them out.

‘Now, now, Mrs. Caffrey’ he said as he pushed his way in. ‘That’s not very welcoming, is it?’

Sara took a deep breath, preparing to scream at the top of her lungs but all she could muster was a quiet squeak and her eyes grew in horror as the man grabbed for her and carried her inside.

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

‘Doggie! Doggie!’ Hope shouted, jumping up and down.

Elizabeth gave a heavy sigh. Hope was clearly on the mend whereas with every passing hour, she was feeling more tired and rundown.

‘Honey, sit down and finish your grilled cheese and then we can watch the movie.’

Hope reluctantly climbed back up onto the kitchen chair with a little help from her uncle Mozzie.

‘She looks like she’s feeling a lot better’ he commented as Elizabeth nodded.

‘Kids...’ she said. ‘They bounce back a lot faster than we do.’

‘You, on the other hand...’ he continued. ‘So did Sara really do a runner?’

El looked up at him and frowned suspiciously. ‘How did you know about that?’

Mozzie avoided her gaze and returned to his ham sandwich. ‘I _might_ have gotten a call from the Suit...’ he volunteered.

‘You’re kidding!’ Elizabeth said. ‘Peter called you from Michigan?’

‘He’s worried about you. Said you sounded tired when he talked to you on the phone.’

Elizabeth got up and began collecting the lunch dishes. She had to admit that taking care of an ailing two-year-old was exhausting - almost as demanding as catering to some of her upper crust clients.

‘Yeah well, she’s my sweet girl’ she said as she ran her hand over Hope’s hair. ‘Aren’t you, sweetheart?’

Hope turned to look up at her godmother with a huge grin, her hand accidentally colliding with the glass of orange juice Mozzie had been drinking out of.

‘Oh, crap!’ El shouted as the juice splattered all over the table.

Hope’s smile morphed into a pout, her lower lip trembling as she prepared to melt down and Mozzie was instantly on his feet, trying to do damage control.

‘All right!’ he declared. ‘I’ve seen enough. You need a break, Mrs. Suit.’

WCWCWC

The courtroom grew quiet as Brian Purdy prepared to begin his cross examination.

Neal took a deep breath, summoning his inner Buddha. This was the part of the exercise he’d been dreading; the cross-examination by Wilkes’ lawyer would likely be brutal. There was no doubt the man would be delving into the least illustrious highlights of Neal’s past and he needed to stay calm, cool and collected while he responded to the man’s questions. He felt his stomach clench, a side effect of those pesky pain meds and he concentrated on breathing as deeply as his injured ribs would allow.

Purdy stood and with an exaggerated swagger Neal couldn't help but admire, he strode over to stand in front of the jury, proud as a peacock. It was all theatrics but Neal noticed some of the jurors, eyes wide, were impressed by the man’s stature.

‘Mr. Caffrey’ he began, eyes still on the jury. ‘You testified that you’re a convicted felon.’

Neal sat, silent. He’d been coached not to respond to statements, just direct questions.

‘Is that right?’ Purdy asked.

‘Yes.’

‘In fact, isn’t it true that you escaped from a high security prison with four months remaining on your original four year sentence?’

Neal steadied his breathing. ‘Yes.’

‘And that you were arrested a second time by Agent Burke and sentenced to another four year term in a super max facility?’ the man continued.

Neal was tempted to explain more in detail but the look on Geoffrey Merton’s face when he glanced his way was a reminder not to fall into defensive mode and to just answer the questions as asked. There would be an opportunity for rebuttal at which time any nuances could be better explained.

‘Yes’ Neal responded.

‘And it was at that time that you negotiated your sweetheart deal with the FBI?’

‘Objection!’ Merton said, getting to his feet.

‘Sustained. Mr. Purdy, please refrain from editorializing’ the judge admonished.

Purdy smiled innocently; he'd managed to make his point.

‘Mr. Caffrey, we’ve ascertained that you were convicted of bond forgery, what were the other crimes you were suspected of?’

Neal cleared his throat. Listing his past crimes, even though he had not been found guilty of any of them, cast a shadow on his integrity.

‘I was suspected of counterfeiting, securities fraud, art theft and racketeering’ he responded, keeping his voice steady.

‘Well, we heard from your very own testimony that you _were_ in fact guilty of theft, at the very least -’ the man began as Merton jumped to his feet once more.

‘Your Honour… again. Mr. Caffrey is not on trial here.’

‘Overruled’ the judge declared. ‘Relates to the witness’ own testimony.

Mr. Purdy, I hope you were leading to a question here.’

‘I was, Your Honour. Mr. Caffrey, were you guilty of any of the other crimes you were suspected of?’

‘Your Honour!’ Merton called out, sounding annoyed - and frankly, whiny.

‘I’ll allow it. Speaks to the credibility of the witness’ the judge announced.

He turned towards Neal, instructing him to answer the question.

Although Neal had been given full immunity in exchange for his testimony, he was less than thrilled about having to expose his previous crimes and transgressions, even though many of them were a matter of public record.

‘As I stated earlier, I carried out some thefts with Mr. Wilkes about a dozen years ago’ Neal explained.

If he was going to sully his name, he was bringing Ryan Wilkes down with him.

‘We’ve established that you worked for the FBI as a criminal informant. Isn't it true that you were valuable to the FBI not only for your extensive knowledge on matters related to art and forgery but because of your many contacts with the criminal underworld?’

‘Yes’ Neal admitted, trying to keep his cool.

‘So you’ve hung around with a lot of shady characters over the years, haven't you?’ he asked.

‘Before my time with the FBI, I associated with... certain unsavoury characters’ Neal admitted. ‘But -’

Purdy cut him off with his hand, preparing to steer the interrogation where he wanted it to go.

‘As a matter of fact, you, yourself, were arrested twice during your time working with Agent Burke, were you not?’ he asked.

Neal thought back to the case of the stolen gem at _Le joyau précieux_ , how he’d been framed for the crime and paraded out of the FBI offices in handcuffs - not a stellar moment, to be sure.

‘I was initially targeted as a suspect in the theft of a precious gem but I was exonerated when the real culprit was identified’ Neal explained, thinking back to his early days with the Bureau.

‘And what about your arrest for stealing an envelope from the home of an insurance investigator?’ Purdy asked as he made his way over to check his notes. ‘Her name was Sara Ellis, was it not?’

Neal stared ahead blankly. Purdy was pushing his buttons and was coming awfully close to pushing him over the edge but Neal was determined not to fall into his trap.

Purdy didn't wait for an answer, all he wanted was to further destabilize Neal and he carried on with a nasty smirk on his face. ‘Oh, wait a minute, didn't you end up _marrying_ Ms Ellis?’

‘Objection, Your Honour!’ came Geoffrey Merton’s voice over the buzz in the room. ‘Mr. Caffrey’s personal life has no relevance to this case.’

‘Sustained’ the judge determined. ‘Mr. Purdy, do you have any _pertinent_ questions for the witness?’

‘I do Your Honour’ he responded as he returned to stand in front of Neal. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Neal could see Wilkes staring at him, enjoying the sideshow and he reminded himself why he was there and the importance of keeping his cool.

‘During your time working with the FBI, were you not embroiled in the high profile theft of valuable art found on a German u-boat?’

Neal had been warned that Wilkes’ defence team would scrutinize his record as a CI and would cherry pick those situations when he hadn't adhered strictly to procedure, regardless of the Burke/Caffrey team’s high success rate in solving cases. The debacle with the sunken u-boat treasure had been the most grievous of his crimes and had led to Elizabeth’s kidnapping, something Neal would always regret. But lady luck had been in his corner and in a strange twist of fate, Matthew Keller had confessed to the crime, something that was now a matter of public record. Sadly, the reality was that Neal _had_ colluded with Mozzie to keep the u-boat treasure a secret from Peter for weeks, the most monumental error in judgement he’d ever committed.

Neal needed to tread lightly, sidestepping some of the facts in favour of what was in the public domain - without perjuring himself.

‘Agent Burke and I were kidnapped and forced to uncover the treasure’ Neal stated - so far, so good.

‘And you were suspected of stealing the treasure and replacing it with forgeries, were you not?’ the man asked.

Neal glanced in Peter’s direction, seeing a look of concern on his partner’s face. This was a very touchy subject and Neal needed to be on his A-game in order to deflect without actually lying.

‘I was’ he admitted, forging ahead. ‘However, a man by the name of Matthew Keller confessed to the crime.’

‘That was convenient for you, wasn't it?’ Purdy said, looking at the jury with a wry smile.

Merton stood, waving his arms. ‘Your Honour, this is turning into a witch hunt. Mr. Keller’s confession is a matter of public record.’

‘Sustained’ the judge said. ‘Mr. Purdy, you’re walking a very fine line, here.’

Purdy gave a smarmy smile and continued, undeterred. ‘Mr. Caffrey, isn't it true that you were very, shall we say, _creative_ while working with the FBI, often circumventing the rules in order to catch some bad guys?’

‘Working cases requires creativity’ Neal said with a smarmy smile of his own.  
‘And if you happened to personally benefit from this creativity, all the better?’ Purdy continued.

This time, Merton was only half way on his feet when the judge spoke up.

‘Mr. Purdy, this is your last warning. Stick to questions please and leave the inferences aside.’

‘Yes, Your Honour’ the man said, totally unapologetic. ‘Mr. Caffrey, while you were investigating an organ donation scam, did you not break into the Howser Clinic in Manhattan?’

Neal took a deep breath, preparing to deviate from Merton’s advice and give a much needed explanation.

‘No’ Neal stated unequivocally. ‘I came in through the front door of the clinic and... gained access to one of the offices. The evidence I uncovered led to the arrest of a man who was illegally harvesting organs and scamming dozens of innocent people who were badly in need of transplants.’

‘So, loosely translated that means the end always justifies the means?’ the lawyer asked, not giving up.

‘No, it doesn't but when investigating a crime, you have to use all the resources at your disposal.’

‘Does that include aiding and abetting?’ he asked as Neal frowned.

‘According to your record, you hid a criminal from the FBI, in fact from your handler, a dangerous criminal who was carrying out brazen crimes... not unlike yourself.’

Neal took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts. ‘Scott Rivers was anything but dangerous, he was a troubled young man who was running around New York carrying out petty crimes in order to get attention. He turned to me for help and I worked hard to help him get his life back on track. I managed to deliver him to the FBI and he was tried and convicted. As a matter of fact, I heard from him just last month. Scott was released after serving eighteen months for theft and he’s now taking courses at NYU while working part time as a barista. He called to thank me for everything I’d done for him.’

‘Wow, you’re a regular good Samaritan, aren't you Mr. Caffrey?’ Purdy said with irony. ‘And who were you helping out when you cut your monitoring anklet and escaped to an island in the South Pacific?’

Neal let out a sigh as Merton sprang to his feet. ‘Your Honour, again. Mr. Caffrey is not on trial here!’

‘Your Honour, if we are to believe a single word the witness has to say about the defendant, we must be able to ascertain if he’s an honest and truthful man. After all, trouble seems to follow Mr. Caffrey wherever he goes’ Purdy added gratuitously.

Neal could feel the blood draining from his face. His body was beginning to give out despite his best intentions and Peter tapped Geoffrey Merton on the shoulder to draw his attention to Neal’s predicament. The questioning had been even more brutal than expected or maybe it was just the fact that his pain medication had begun to wear off and Neal was having trouble staying focussed. His body language spoke volumes and Geoffrey Merton rose, taking advantage of a lull in the proceedings.

‘Your Honour, I would like to request a recess. Mr. Caffrey is still recovering from the injuries he suffered at the hands of Mr. Wilkes’ henchmen...’

‘Really, Your Honour?’ Purdy shot back, miffed.

The link between Neal’s condition and Ryan Wilkes had been established by Billy Boy Boyd but the lowlife had a real credibility issue and not everyone on the jury had been convinced of the veracity of the man’s testimony.

The judge brought down his gavel decisively. ‘This court will recess and reconvene tomorrow morning at 9:30’ he declared.

Neal let out a shaky breath and stood uneasily. He was in agony from sitting there for the better part of two hours but his eyes rose steadily to face Ryan Wilkes as the man glared back at Neal - a standoff of sorts. Neal could feel his legs wavering and, not wanting to show any weakness, he opted to stand there, staring unblinkingly at his nemesis.

One of the court’s clerks stepped forward and took Ryan Wilkes by the arm, escorting him out of the courtroom as his lawyer gathered his things. Neal waited for Wilkes to disappear before taking a tentative step towards Peter who was already headed towards him, a worried look on his face.

‘You okay, buddy?’ he asked.

‘I think I should have worn combat gear’ Neal replied sardonically.

WCWCWC

Elizabeth Burke sat in the car next to Clinton Jones as they arrived in the Burkes’ Clinton Hill neighbourhood. Mozzie had insisted on taking over child care duty so that El could take a few hours to herself, go home, have a shower and change her clothes. She’d been on duty for forty-eight hours straight and he could tell she was exhausted and badly in need of some down time.

‘Don’t worry. I’ve got someone watching the Caffrey house’ Jones said in the uncomfortable silence.

‘Am I that transparent?’ El asked.

‘I know you’re worried about Hope but she’s in good hands with Mozzie’ he said.

She nodded, looking out the window at the grey day. ‘I’ll be glad when Peter comes home’ she stated, unsurprisingly.

‘I get it’ Jones said. ‘But this isn't your first rodeo... and it probably won't be your last.’

She looked up at Clinton’s kind face. ’You’re right.’

The car came to a stop in front of the house and Elizabeth let out a long sigh of relief.

‘Give me a few minutes to give your place the once over and then I’ll come back out here and keep an eye on the place until you’re ready to go back.’

‘Thanks Clinton’ El answered with a tired smile.

Jones and Elizabeth prepared to step out of the car when she spoke once again.

‘I don’t suppose you’d do one more thing for me?’

‘Name it’ he said.

A few houses down, a beige older model van pulled up, the occupants on a mission for one Ryan Wilkes.

WCWCWC

Neal and Peter were joined by Geoffrey Merton and his assistant who motioned them towards a nearby meeting room.

‘Let’s regroup’ Geoffrey suggested.

Neal was physically and mentally exhausted but he held strong, taking a seat in the small conference room by Peter’s side. He couldn't wait to get back to the hotel room so he could check on Sara and fall into bed next to her and let his body recover from the brutal questioning and the lingering aches and pains.

‘Look, don’t worry, Neal. We knew Purdy would come hard at you. In the morning, I’ll ask for a redirect and we can put a little bit of nuance into the image he tried to project of you’ he explained.

Neal raised his eyebrows in skepticism; the damage was done and the worst part was that most of what had been exposed about him was true.

The uneasy silence was broken by both Neal and Peter’s phones buzzing simultaneously, indicating an incoming text and both men looked at each other warily at the strange coincidence. They reached for their phones and Geoffrey Merton watched as both men’s faces hardened, melting into deep frowns, the two of them immediately getting on their feet.

‘Peter!’ Neal said as he showed him his phone screen.

Peter did the same and the two men stared in disbelief at the identical messages appearing on their screens.

‘You might want to check on your wife.’

TBC


	20. Chapter 20

Clinton Jones preceded Elizabeth up the steps to the Burke house, intent on checking things out before letting her roam the house freely. He wasn't about to cut any corners, especially where the safety of his boss’ wife was concerned.

Sadly, threats of retaliation were not uncommon with criminals upon their arrest. They often lashed out indiscriminately at those who had cuffed them as their frustration and anger mounted during interrogation. But most of the time, those threats were empty and baseless and nothing ever came of them. In a case like this, however, the stakes were high. Ryan Wilkes had a personal grudge against Neal - and by extension, against Peter and he’d already retaliated by having Neal beaten up. Any further threat, as remote as it seemed, had to be treated with the serious attention it deserved. Wilkes headed up a large crime syndicate and at any given time, he could call on any of a dozen or so associates to act on his behalf. Furthermore, most of his crew had been with him for a long time and remained loyal despite Wilkes’ propensity for vengeance and violence. He paid them well and that went a long way to buying their loyalty - and their silence.

Clinton searched the first floor of the Burke house, looking in all the nooks and crannies and instructed Elizabeth to stay put while he began a search of the rest of the house, moving from room to room with Satchmo sniffing at his heels. El put the kettle on and waited in the kitchen for the green light. Regrettably, Jones had refused to run out and pick up her favourite vanilla latte from the nearby Starbucks in favour of carrying out the promise he'd made to Peter not to let her out of his sight. She would have to make do with the regular blend of coffee she kept in the fridge - at least until they headed back out to White Plains.

She grabbed for a cupful of dog food from the cupboard, noticing that Martha Findlay, the kind neighbour she’d enlisted to take care of Satchmo while she was secluded at the Caffreys', had already put out his ration for the day. El hadn't been in her house for three days and she sat at the kitchen island, enjoying the blissful silence, thinking ahead to the hot shower and restful nap she would treat herself to before returning to child care duty. As much as she loved her goddaughter, the two-year-old was a handful and she’d developed newfound admiration for Neal and Sara who had to chase the little whippersnapper around the house every day of their lives.

The sound of Jones coming down the steps brought her out into the living room and Satchmo ran to her, lobbying for a nuzzle as he sniffed her hand.

‘All clear’ Jones reported as Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief.

‘Thanks Clinton’ she said. ‘Do you want a cup of coffee before you go back out to the car?’

‘I’m good’ he said. ‘So listen, take your time. Do what you need to do and I’ll keep an eye on the place. Let me know when you’re ready to head back.’

Elizabeth gave him a warm smile and escorted him to the door where he waited to hear the lock engaging before running down the steps and back to the waiting car. The sound of the kettle boiling broke the silence and El headed back to the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee.

Clinton glanced down the street, looking for anything out of the ordinary. It was mid-afternoon on a Thursday and there was little foot traffic on the quiet street. He saw a woman across the street walking her dog and a couple of teenagers making their way down the street away from the Burkes’ place. He leaned down to unlock the car door and caught a glimpse of movement behind him in the reflection of the car window, alas too late to react.

He heard a loud grunt and felt the unmistakeable butt of a gun striking him decisively on the back of the head before everything went dark.

WCWCWC

Sara’s eyes grew wide as one of the two men put his hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming while the second intruder closed the hotel room door behind them.

‘Give me the goddamn tape’ the first man said as he held her with one arm and waved the gun in Sara’s face with the other.

The second guy began poking around his jacket pocket and the brief diversion gave Sara just enough time to open her mouth and bite down hard on the hand that was covering her mouth. The thug let out a yelp and Sara used the momentary distraction to knee him in the groin, a weak but valiant attempt which only served to infuriate him.

‘You bitch!’ he screamed as he attempted to cover her mouth once again.

Sara stared him right in the face. She didn't have much she could use to defend herself but her mind settled on the one weapon she _did_ have. She coughed wetly in his face and followed it up by spitting directly into the man’s eye. She might not be able to take him down but, at the very least, she could share her lovely strep infection with him.

His hand instantly went up to her face and he gave her a resounding slap across the cheek, leaving her to whimper at the stinging sensation, her head swimming.

‘Hurry!’ her attacker said as his cohort finally handed over a roll of tape.

He expertly placed a strip over her mouth and dragged her over to the couch, Sara fighting him all the way.

‘Now sit down and shut up!’ he growled, brandishing his gun. ‘Bullseye!’ the other man said nervously. ‘He didn't say to hurt her.’

‘Well, the bitch hurt me...’ he complained as he brought his hand protectively to his groin. ‘...so all bets are off.’

‘Come on. Let’s get going. They might find that bodyguard any minute...’ the younger man said as he glanced nervously towards the door.

Bullseye leaned in until he was a mere inches from Sara’s face, staring angrily at her.

‘That’s an interesting little hat you’ve got on’ he said, mocking her. He removed the woolen cap she’d been wearing and threw it across the room, leaving her new growth of hair exposed and igniting Sara’s fury.

Without hesitation, her arms came up and she shoved him away with all her might. The movement caught him off guard and Sara watched with smugness as he stumbled back a few steps, almost losing his footing. 

His eyes grew furious and mumbling obscenities under his breath, he reached into his back pocket and produced some zip ties, handing a pair to the second man who stood and watched with his mouth wide open.

‘You know it doesn't have to be like this, bitch’ Bullseye groaned as he turned Sara around roughly and proceeded to tie her hands together. We only wanted to have a little talk.’

He turned to find his partner standing there, shell shocked. ‘Tie her feet, you idiot!’ he shouted as the man sprang into action.

Without the use of her hands and feet and with her mouth taped shut, Sara could do little but sit there and stare. Maybe getting him all riled up hadn't been such a good idea - but it sure as hell had felt good to stare him down and spit in his eye.

‘Now, _you_ have a job to do, Mrs. Caffrey. You're going to deliver a message to your husband and to his partner, Agent Burke.’

The man brought his gun up to her face and began caressing her cheek with the barrel in an effort to intimidate her but Sara just kept staring defiantly at him, although her head was still spinning from the sharp slap to her face.

She blinked, forcing herself to concentrate and she took a couple of quivering breaths to keep from passing out.

‘You tell your baby daddy that Mr. Wilkes is very angry with him and that he needs to watch his back. We know all about your pretty little house in the suburbs with your pretty little back yard and your pretty little garden. And, of course, your pretty little blue-eyed baby girl’ he whispered menacingly.

His hand reached for his phone and suddenly, Hope’s smiling face was staring at Sara causing her to whimper through the duct tape.

‘I have to admit, she _is_ awfully cute’ he added, goading her.

‘We know where you work, we know where you shop, we know where your husband likes to take you for dinner and one day, when you least expect it...’ he said, his voice quiet.

‘BOOM!’ he shouted with a twisted laugh. ‘And Mr. Wilkes has a very long memory so... he might be going away for a while but his crew is still out there and he’ll be back on the street before you know it.’

The muffled sound of a cellphone ringing was heard and the younger man shuffled from one foot to the other as he hovered by the door.

‘Bullseye, we got to go!’

Sara continued to stare ahead, unwilling to show any fear.

Bullseye stared back, unblinking and lifted his gun menacingly.

‘And here’s the last part of the message, bitch’ he growled as he brought the butt of the gun down, striking Sara’s cheek and leaving a blooming red welt as she flinched and moaned despite her dogged determination to stay strong.

Within seconds, the two intruders had disappeared out the door and Sara’s body gave in as she fell back on the couch.

WCWCWC

‘There’s no answer’ Neal said breathlessly as he and Peter ran out to the car.

Peter was also on his phone, trying to reach Elizabeth on her cell phone and Jones on his.

‘Jones isn't answering either’ he muttered in frustration.

‘Here, you drive’ Peter added as he threw the car keys in Neal’s direction. ‘I’m going to try Diana.’

The car careened out of the parking lot at full speed as the two men headed back to the hotel. Neal’s heart rate was off the charts and suddenly, all his aches and pains were forgotten as he sprung into action. If Wilkes’ people had done anything to hurt Sara, he was going to personally rip the man apart, piece by piece.

‘Diana’ he heard Peter said, his voice frantic. ‘Jones isn't answering his phone.’

He listened for a second as Diana relayed some information. ‘All right, call me when you get there’ he responded.

Neal gave him a questioning look.

‘Apparently, El went home to shower and change and Jones went with her... Diana’s going to drive over to our place to see what’s up’ Peter explained, his voice full of worry.

‘Well, who’s with Hope then?’ Neal couldn’t help but ask.

‘Diana says Mozzie showed up and they have a detail watching your house’ Peter said.

Neither one of them would be satisfied until they heard back from their wives and Neal took a corner at high speed, sending Peter flying against the car door, without a word of complaint.

WCWCWC

‘What is it, Jones?’ Elizabeth shouted through the front door, her voice permeated with laughter. ‘Did you change your mind about the coffee?’

She opened the door to two strangers standing on the front stoop - instead of Jones whom she’d expected to find there, considering he’d stepped out mere seconds before.

It took but a moment for her mind to register what was going on and she panicked, pushing the door closed against the two men just as Sara had attempted to - with the same result.

The men pushed their way in and Satchmo let out a not-so-menacing bark as Elizabeth almost fell back from the force of the door opening against her. They were instantly inside the house and El let out a scream, causing Satchmo to growl at the men.

‘Shut up!’ one of the men yelled at the pooch who continued to stand his ground. ‘Both of you.’

His hand went to his jacket pocket and he pulled out a gun, to El’s horror.

‘You’d better get your dog to back off, lady’ he said as he waved the gun around.

‘Satch, come here boy’ Elizabeth murmured as she grabbed for his collar.

‘What do you want?’ she asked as the men walked in, forcing her to back up into the living room with Satchmo in tow.

‘This is just a friendly little visit’ said the second man who was wearing a baseball cap. ‘A ‘courtesy’ call wouldn’t you say, Joe?’

The man named Joe nodded and grabbed Elizabeth’s arm, causing Satchmo to growl once more.

‘I swear lady. I have no problem putting a bullet in your pooch’s head if he doesn't shut the hell up’ the man warned.

‘He’s not used to strangers’ El said, her voice weak as she put a protective arm around the dog.

‘Let’s have a little chat, shall we?’ the second man said as he took a seat in the living room.

The other thug took Elizabeth’s arm and guided her to the couch, pushing her down roughly.

‘We’re just here to deliver a message’ he said as he took the seat next to her. ‘And if you sit there quietly, we’ll say our piece and we’ll be on our way.’

Elizabeth sat up, straight as an arrow. She gave a fleeting glance out the window, noticing Jones’ car was still there but he was nowhere in sight.

‘The message is for your husband’ the intruder continued. ‘A warning, so to speak.’  
Satchmo began to relax at El’s feet and she ran her hand over his furry head, trying to keep him calm.

‘Mr. Wilkes didn’t like your husband and his partner poking their nose in his business and going up to Michigan to testify against him and he wanted you to know that he was...’

The man looked over to his partner, enjoying the look of terror on El’s face. ‘... would you say, the boss was pissed off?’ he asked, tauntingly.

‘Yeah, I would say he was pissed off’ the man named Joe responded as he stood to look around the living room.

Elizabeth sat motionless, her eyes drifting back to the street, noticing movement out of the corner of her eye. Three other FBI cars had pulled up and she could see some agents, including Diana Berrigan, checking out the car she’d driven up in, ostensibly looking for Jones.

Elizabeth did her best to bring her gaze back to the intruders, not wanting to draw attention to the activity out on the street.

‘You know, you have a really nice place here, Mrs. Burke. It would be a shame if something were to happen to it or to your pooch here’ the man murmured menacingly.

As if he’d understood, Satchmo let out another loud bark and El took advantage of the distraction to look outside. Four of the agents who had driven up were preparing to storm the house. She could see Diana and another agent going around the back while another couple of men began to creep up the front steps to the house.

Elizabeth stood in an effort to divert the intruders’ attention.

‘If you let me feed the dog, he won’t bother us’ she lied as she stood, hoping to distract them.

‘Make it quick’ the man with the gun said as he stood and followed her into the kitchen, to El’s chagrin.

She took her time, walking gingerly. If Diana and her partner were going to storm in, she didn't want to be in the line of fire. She went through the motion of grabbing some dog food, hoping the thug wouldn't notice there was already food in the bowl. 

‘Why, you little conniving...’ he shouted as he spotted the food, raising his gun and aiming it directly at the innocent mutt.

WCWCWC

Peter and Neal arrived at the hotel in record time. The chair in which Chuck, the local g-man, had been seated sat empty save for his shoes which lay there, strangely devoid of his feet.

Peter’s gun was instantly drawn and despite his attempt to precede Neal into the room, the younger man stormed in without hesitation, his eyes frantically searching for his wife.

‘Sara!’ he called out as he spotted her on the couch, bound and gagged.

‘Sara...’ he repeated as he kneeled down in front of her, gently removing the tape from her mouth. Her face was swollen from the hit she’d taken and her eyes were wide, tears of rage and frustration streaming down her face.

‘The son of a bitch...’ he heard her mutter, her voice raspy.

‘Oh, my god, what happened?’ he asked, reaching for his pocket knife in order to remove the zip ties that were keeping her prisoner.

Her arms were instantly around his neck as she melted in his embrace, Neal’s hands reaching up to cradle her bare head. She pulled away and he grabbed for his pocket square, taking stock of the large swollen welt on her cheek and gently wiping the tears streaming down her face.

‘Are you hurt?’ he asked, noticing her flinch at his soft touch. He ran his hand over her arms and legs, checking her out for any obvious signs of injury.

She shook her head and Neal could see the rage in her eyes; anger at having been outsmarted, something Sara Ellis did not do well with.

‘Damn cowards’ she mumbled, under her breath as Neal took a seat next to her and pulled her in against his sore body.

Meanwhile, Peter was doing a quick scan of the room and he stepped out into the hallway, trying to find clues as to where Chuck, the bodyguard, might have disappeared to.

‘Neal!’ he called out as Neal tore himself away from Sara for a moment and followed Peter’s voice out to the nearby stairwell.

When he got there, he found Peter hovering over the FBI agent, bound and gagged just as Sara had been.

‘I’m sorry, Agent Burke’ the man apologized. ‘These guys came up and pretended to fiddle with the lock on the room next to yours and the next thing I knew...’ 

‘It’s okay, Chuck’ Peter said as he helped the man stand. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘No. Is Mrs. Caffrey all right?’ he asked as Neal nodded and ran back to check on his wife.

The two other men followed him back to the room and Peter prepared to call for help just as his phone rang in his hand.

‘Diana!’ Peter answered, his breathing laboured.

TBC


	21. Chapter 21

‘You sure you don't want to try some of this?’ Neal coaxed as he held up his fork. ‘It’s really good.’

Sara gave him a decisive head shake and returned to sipping the tea she’d ordered. Although her fever had finally broken and the antibiotics had begun to take effect, she didn't have much of an appetite, especially after the day she’d had.

‘We really should have that looked at’ Neal said as his eyes returned to the nasty bruise on her cheek.

‘It’s fine, Neal. It looks worse than it is’ she lied. ‘Besides, I started the day in hospital and I sure as hell don’t want to finish it there.’

He brought his hand to rest on hers. He hadn't wanted to let her out of his sight since he and Peter had found her bound and gagged in their hotel room. He could only imagine how worried his partner was, with Elizabeth miles away, also recovering from an attack by Wilkes’ thugs.

‘Babe, you really do need to eat something if you want to keep up your strength’ Neal insisted, fork loaded up once again.

Sara leaned in and opened her mouth and Neal deposited a bite of spaghetti carbonara, reaching over to wipe the corner of her mouth with his napkin.

‘Satisfied?’ she asked, her mouth full.

‘It’s a start’ he admitted with a weak smile, trying to cheer her up.

Her face remained serious. There was a part of the exchange she’d had with Wilkes’ men that she still hadn't shared with him. Something she knew would push him over the edge.

‘Neal...’ she began tentatively. He put down his fork and looked at her. ‘There’s something else... something I haven't told you.’

‘What?’ he said, batting his eyelashes at her and pointing to his face.

‘That you love me - despite the new look?’

She scoffed and stifled a smile. ‘Those men today... they threatened to hurt Hope.’

‘What?’ he said, more loudly this time - and without a shred of humour.

The couple sitting at the table next to them in the hotel restaurant glanced their way and Neal’s eyes narrowed as he returned his gaze to Sara.

She cleared her throat, trying to find her voice. ‘One of them had... a picture of her on his phone.’

Neal stared ahead, dumbstruck. Breaking in and attacking his wife was horrible enough but threatening to hurt an innocent child was cruel and reprehensible - then again, there seemed to be no limits where Ryan Wilkes was concerned.

‘The son of a bitch!’ he finally said under his breath, his rage intensifying.

‘Neal, _I_ can take it... I’m used to the threats and the danger but... Hope... she’s just a baby’ Sara said, getting choked up. ‘... our baby.’

‘I know’ Neal answered, trying hard to reign in his fury in an attempt to reassure his wife. ‘Honey, he’s just trying to get under our skin. We can’t let him get to us.’

They were interrupted by Peter who reappeared, taking the seat he’d vacated across from Sara, his face a little more relaxed than it had been before he’d left to call El.

‘How is she?’ Sara asked, leaning forward.

‘She’s okay. She was in your bed, reading Hope a bedtime story with Satchmo curled up at their feet. Jones and Diana are outside keeping an eye on the place and Mozzie decided to stay over.’

Neal smiled, thankful to have such good friends looking out for them.

‘So, what happened?’ Neal asked. They’d gotten the Reader’s Digest version of events from Diana but he was curious as to what had transpired back in Brooklyn that afternoon.

‘El says two guys stormed in and gave her pretty well the same spiel they gave Sara. One of them was armed and she managed to lure him into the kitchen just before Diana and Blake came charging in the back door. She says Satchmo jumped the guy when he aimed the gun at him and the guy ended up dropping his weapon with Satchmo at his throat. They had to peel him off the guy. The two of them were taken in for questioning but they don't seem willing to talk.’

‘Is Elizabeth alright?’ Sara asked, voice raspy.

‘Better than you are’ Peter responded as Sara shrugged.

‘Well, at least I’ve got you guys here with me’ she said. ‘Maybe if I’d stayed home...’

‘Don’t blame yourself, Sara. Those guys were determined to make their point, no matter what’ Peter said.

Neal nodded. ‘What should we do about tomorrow?’ he asked his dinner companions.

‘Do you really want to give in to him and walk away without finishing your testimony?’ Peter asked, knowing full well the answer.

‘No... I don’t’ Neal said, his voice quiet. ‘I just don't know if I’ll be able to control myself when I come face to face with him in that courtroom.’

‘You’re going to have to, Neal’ Peter said as Sara listened.

She’d been trying to keep a stiff upper lip, downplaying her fears but now that Neal was by her side, she’d begun to let her guard down and she let out an unexpected gasp as tears began forming in her eyes.

‘Peter, he had a picture of Hope’ she blubbered, her voice still raspy.

Peter and Neal exchanged worried looks and Neal brought his hand to rest on Sara’s shoulder, gently rubbing her arm.

‘He wanted to scare us and if we give in, he wins’ he explained patiently.

‘Neal’s right’ Peter chimed in. ‘Wilkes just wanted to flex his muscles and put the fear of God in us...’

‘Mission accomplished’ Sara murmured.

‘Honey, he’s a sick man, a narcissist who feels the need to control everyone around him’ Neal added.

Sara’s silence betrayed her apprehension and Peter and Neal shared a worried glance.

‘Babe, I can’t just walk away from this’ Neal finally said.

‘I know’ she said her voice small. ‘And I would never ask you to.’

‘Then, we’re all in agreement. I’ll go back in the morning and let Merton finish up his questioning’ Neal concluded.

‘With any luck, you can be done by lunchtime and we can hit the road right away’ Peter suggested, his voice a little lighter.

‘They’re calling for snow again tomorrow’ Sara reminded them.

‘Is that really going to stop us from leaving?’ Neal asked, knowing full well the answer to his question.

‘No’ Peter declared, unwavering. ‘Let’s pack up our stuff tonight and as soon as you’re done in court, we can make a start.’

WCWCWC

‘Is everything okay?’ Peter asked his wife as he lay on the hide-a-bed.

He’d been on the phone to her three times since the events of the afternoon and he wasn't going to be getting any sleep if he didn't talk to her one last time before turning in.

‘I’d be lying if I said I didn't wish you were here’ Elizabeth responded, her voice quiet.

‘I will be... soon, honey’ he answered, stretching out on the bed.

‘Jones and Diana have been great. They had him checked out at the hospital but he refuses to leave, even though he has a slight concussion.’

‘That sounds like Clinton all right’ Peter said with a chuckle.

There was an awkward silence and Elizabeth knew what her husband was thinking.

‘Honey, don't worry about me, I’m fine’ she said, a pre-emptive strike.

‘Of course I’m worried about you, El. I’m just glad they didn't physically hurt you. Sara got a really nasty bruise from the butt of a gun.’

‘She’s always been a fighter’ El answered with a chuckle. ‘How’s she doing otherwise? Have the antibiotics begun to work their magic?’ 

‘She looked a lot better at dinner. Neal even managed to cajole her into having a few bites of his dinner. What about you? Any signs of having caught Hope’s superbug?’

‘Not yet... I’m just really tired from chasing her around the house’ she replied with a giggle.

‘Well, she _is_ a handful’ Peter admitted. ‘Luckily, she doesn't know what’s going on.’

‘She’s sound asleep. As soon as she said goodnight to Neal and Sara, she curled up into a little ball with that pink elephant you gave her and she was out like a light.’

‘We’ve decided to leave right after Neal’s testimony wraps up tomorrow’ Peter announced.

‘You mean he’s going back for more?’ El asked, worried.

‘Honey, we cant let this guy dictate what we do. Neal wants to finish what he started. Then, it’ll all be in the jury’s hands.’

Elizabeth Burke was used to her husband standing up to the bad guys.

‘All right… well, keep me posted’ she said wistfully. ‘I love you, honey.’

‘Love you more’ he replied.

WCWCWC

The sound of Peter’s deep voice wafted through the doors separating the living space from the bedroom of the hotel suite as Neal and Sara lay in bed, facing each other.

‘We look like a couple of bruisers’ Sara whispered as Neal chuckled.

‘Yeah, we’re quite the pair’ he said, wincing.

‘Sore?’ Sara asked unnecessarily.

‘My ribs... the left side’s worse. Mind if we switch places?’ Neal asked as he slipped off the mattress.

Ever since they’d begun sharing a bed, years ago, he’d always slept on the right side but lying on his bruised ribs was more than he could handle at the moment.

Sara scooted over and Neal made his way over to the other side of the bed, slipping in to face her.

‘Much better’ he groaned as he manoeuvred himself into a more comfortable position.

Sara studied his face. ‘What are you going to do when you come face to face with him tomorrow?’

Neal shrugged. ‘I can handle it’ he said, rather unconvincingly.

Sara frowned at his response and her hand came to rest on his cheek, avoiding the area around his nose which was still swollen and discoloured.

‘Actually, it’s not as sore as it was’ Neal said, resting his hand on Sara’s hip.

‘You’re kidding, right?’ Sara said, not believing a word.

‘I’m serious. The swelling’s gone down - I just sound like I’ve got the worst cold ever.’

Sara giggled. ‘Look at the two of us, trying to convince the other that we’re not a total mess.’

‘Yeah, I’m not buying it either’ Neal admitted as his hand came up to touch her bruised cheek.

‘Owww’ she said, unable to hold back.

‘Awww, sorry babe’ Neal said as he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her bruise.

‘Neal, just promise me you’ll be careful tomorrow. Don't do anything to provoke him. Please’ Sara begged.

He gave her a dismissive look, his eyes narrowing. ‘I won’t’ he said, trying to deflect.

She knew the man more than he knew himself.

‘Yeah, right.' 

WCWCWC

The three occupants of room 407 got a decent night’s sleep despite the turbulent events of the previous day. Sara Ellis was awakened by loud snoring from the six foot tall man curled up in the bed next to her - louder than she’d experienced thus far in their almost two year marriage.

‘Neal! Neal!’ she called out as he stirred. ‘Honey, you’re snoring!’

‘Sorry’ he mumbled, followed by a loud snort. He glanced over her shoulder at the clock radio.

‘It’s time to get up anyway’ he moaned, moving gingerly on the bed.

‘Neal?’ Sara said, obviously more awake than he was. ‘I want to come with you.’

Neal was on his feet, hovering near the bed.

‘What? But Peter arranged for surveillance so you can stay here and rest before we hit the road.’

‘I don’t _want_ to rest’ Sara said, sounding like a petulant child. ‘I want to come to court with you.’

Neal took a seat on the edge of the bed. ‘Babe, are you sure that’s a good idea? It’ll just upset you.’

‘No. I want to... I want to be with you’ she admitted sheepishly.

It was obvious that was only part of the reason for her sudden change of heart but Neal wasn't about to argue. In fact, he would be more than happy to have her by his side where he could keep an eye on her.

‘Okay’ he said with a smile.

He ran his hand over her covered head and leaned in to kiss her.

‘You want to jump in the shower first - or, better yet, do you want to come in with me?’ he asked impishly, wagging his eyebrows and following it up with a grimace as the pain flared.

‘You go ahead’ she said with a smile. ‘I want to call home and see how Hope slept.’

‘Alright’ Neal murmured, pulling away.

He found Peter, lying on his back, wide awake holding his phone in his hands.

‘Mornin’ Neal called out as he headed for the bathroom. ‘How’d you sleep?’

‘Not bad, considering’ Peter said as he sat up.

‘Neal?’ he said, his voice quiet as he stood and closed the door to the bedroom. ‘I texted Merton and he’s going to give us a hand with that thing we talked about.’

Neal stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at his partner, a devilish twinkle in his eye.

WCWCWC

‘Good morning!’ Geoffrey Merton called out as Neal, Peter and Sara stepped into the small meeting room adjacent to the courtroom.

‘Geoffrey, this is my wife, Sara’ Neal said as Merton stepped forward to shake her hand.

‘Nice to meet you. For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry about what happened to you yesterday’ the man said.

Sara cocked an eyebrow in response and everyone took a seat around the conference table with Merton producing a sheet of paper and placing in front of Neal.

‘These are the points I’d like to make to try to counteract some of the damage Purdy tried to do yesterday’ he explained.

‘I want to focus on your high closure rate at the FBI as well as your letters of commendation and I’d like you to talk a little bit more about your daughter and the work you’re doing with art authentication. Is that all right with you?’

Neal glanced over at Sara; it would be difficult for him to talk about Hope with Wilkes sitting there staring him down, especially after the threats he'd made the day before.

‘Wilkes’ men threatened to hurt our daughter. I would prefer to keep her out of it, if that’s okay’ Neal said, taking Sara’s hand.

‘Sure’ Merton said. ‘The objective is to let them see what your life is like today and the important contributions you’ve made to the FBI.’

‘Okay’ Neal said soberly. ‘Look, this whole thing has really shaken us all up. Peter’s wife was also threatened back home and... well, we’re all looking forward to getting back to our lives.’

Merton nodded. ‘I get it. We’ll make this as quick and painless as possible. Shall we?’

There was a furtive glance between Peter and Neal and Sara’s superior investigative skills immediately picked up on it. She’d been watching those two together for years and she could always tell when they were plotting something.

‘What?’ she asked, holding Neal back by grabbing his arm.

‘Nothing’ he stated, reaching for her hand. ‘Come on.’

WCWCWC

‘Mr. Caffrey’ Geoffrey Merton began when the courtroom had grown quiet. ‘How long did you work for the FBI?’

‘A little over four years’ Neal answered as he gave Peter a quick glance.

‘And would it surprise you to know that you worked on over seventy-five cases while you were partnered with Agent Burke.’

‘Actually, that sounds about right.’

‘Do you happen to know what the New York White Collar Division’s closure rate was before you joined their team?’

‘Only from what Agent Burke has said. I believe it was in the sixty percent range’ Neal said, uncertain.

‘Sixty-two percent’ Merton specified. ‘And what about the last year you were there?’ Merton asked.

‘I believe it was somewhere in the 80s’ Neal responded.

‘It had grown to ninety-two percent but the average over the four years you were there was eighty-eight percent. Why do you think that is, Mr. Caffrey?’

Neal shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. I like to think I contributed to those statistics in some way’ Neal responded, self deprecatingly.

‘As a matter of fact, Agent Burke testified that you were the single, most important factor in raising the unit’s success rate.’

‘Objection Your Honour!’ Brian Purdy shouted from his seat next to Ryan Wilkes.

‘On what grounds?’ the judge asked, annoyed.

Purdy looked flustered for a moment and the judge gave him a reproachful look.

‘Please sit down, Mr. Purdy and refrain from interrupting the proceedings unnecessarily.’

Geoffrey Merton gave a smug smile and continued. ‘As a matter of fact, Mr. Caffrey, did you not receive a letter of commendation for your efforts.’

Neal glanced over at Peter once again.

‘Peter and I worked together to bring down a criminal by the name of Matthew Keller and the Bureau sent me a letter, congratulating me on my outstanding work.’

‘I understand you were also instrumental in bringing down Robert McLeish, a man who'd been on the FBI’s most wanted list for the better part of ten years.’

Neal smiled demurely. He remembered all too well how Peter had engineered things so that he could get the lion’s share of the credit for McLeish’s arrest.

‘That was more of a... right time, right place kind of thing’ he said modestly.

‘Regardless, your bravery and ability to think outside the box were very useful to the FBI during your tenure. Mr. Caffrey, have you had any dealings with the law since your release?’

‘No’ Neal answered, surprising himself with the level of pride in his voice. Sure, he'd helped Mozzie on a couple of occasions but he'd kept his promise to Sara to be a good role model for their daughter and he was proud of that fact.

‘You’ve married since then, have you not?’

‘I have’ Neal said with a smile as he glanced in Sara’s direction.

‘And you’re a father?’

‘I am’ Neal said, not willing to say anything more.

‘And presently, you do art authentication?’

‘I’m called in on an as needed basis by a couple of insurance companies’ Neal clarified.

‘And don't you still work the odd case for the FBI?’

‘When I’m called in, I like to help out’ Neal said.

‘As a matter of fact, were you not offered a full-time position as a consultant with the FBI following your release.’

‘Yes, I was’ Neal said, pausing. ‘But I decided to explore other options.’

‘All in all, would you say you’ve left your life as a criminal behind you, Mr. Caffrey?’

‘Yes, I have, definitely’ Neal said, his voice loud and clear.

‘No further questions, Your Honour’ Geoffrey Merton said as he retired to the prosecution’s table.

As difficult as it had been, Neal had managed to give his testimony without once looking in Ryan Wilkes’ direction. Just the sight of him was enough to make him nauseous and he'd been determined to stay focussed throughout the questioning.

Now that it was over, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He was looking forward to a little tête à tête with the man who'd created chaos for him and all those he loved.

TBC


	22. Chapter 22

It was Friday morning and the atmosphere in the Caffrey kitchen on Meadowbrook Street in White Plains was downright festive. Diana Berrigan stood by the stove, frying up some bacon and flipping her signature banana pancakes while Jones brewed a pot of Italian roast for the hungry crowd.

Elizabeth and Mozzie relaxed at the kitchen table with Hope sitting between them in her booster seat repeatedly - and annoyingly - kicking the edge of the table with her foot while she waited not so patiently to be served breakfast.

‘Why don't you sing us a song while we’re waiting, Hope?’ Elizabeth suggested in an attempt to curtail the annoying sound she was making.

‘What was that song your daddy was singing to you when you came over to our house the other day?’

‘Be youuu!’ Hope said with a wide grin.

‘That’s right. Can you sing it for us?’ El asked, hoping she wouldn't live to regret her suggestion.

Hope took a deep breath and looked around, making sure she had everyone’s attention before launching into a very off-key rendition of ‘It had to be you’ which consisted mostly of mumbling the first few words of each bar and ending strong with a drawn out crescendo of the last word of each verse. She was a ham - especially when she was in her element - and after being prodded to sing, the fear was it might now become impossible to get her to shut up.

‘YOUUUUUUUU!’ she sang at the top of lungs as everyone giggled.

‘It smells wonderful Diana’ Elizabeth said over Hope’s crooning. ‘Can I help?’

‘You relax. You’ve been through enough the last few days. Let us cater to you for a change. Besides, this beats sipping bad coffee and munching stale donuts out in the car’ Diana said as she placed another pancake on what was becoming a monumental tower of carbs.

Short of having Peter home, this was a pretty close second and El gladly accepted the cup of steaming coffee Clinton offered her.

‘Here’ he said. ‘I hope this makes up for not getting you that vanilla latte yesterday.’

She gave him a grateful smile. It had been a rough couple of days, culminating with the visit from Ryan Wilkes’ two thugs, and it was nice to be surrounded by the people she loved now that the worst was finally behind them.

‘...ROUND ... _mumble, mumble, mumble_.... FOUND’ Hope belted out in the background while the grownups chuckled - just enough encouragement to keep her going, it seemed.

She had inherited her dad’s showmanship and she flashed them all a smile as she carried on, banging her spoon against the table in an irregular rhythm and batting her eyelashes in the way she’d learned was irresistible to most grown-ups with a pulse.

After a few days of running around taking care of her goddaughter and her best friend, Elizabeth was enjoying some adult company and a good meal she hadn't had to prepare herself.

Hope got to the big finale and she let out an irrepressible giggle followed by a shriek of satisfaction and enthusiastic hand clapping.

Elizabeth gave her a warm smile and ran her hand through the toddler’s thick mane of hair.

Family.

WCWCWC

Ryan Wilkes stood next to his lawyer, chatting quietly as one of the guards waited patiently to take him away. Neal finally let his eyes roam in his direction, noticing a look of concern on the man’s face - a look he’d never seen before. Geoffrey Merton had done an excellent job questioning Neal, clearing up some of the misconceptions left behind by Wilkes’s lawyer the day before and the defence side of the room looked perplexed in response to the events that had just unfolded.

Neal could never be described as a model citizen. He was the first to admit his many shortcomings. His criminal past would always remain a matter of public record, no matter how many years he lived life on the straight and narrow. To be honest, he didn't have many regrets, having enjoyed those years with Mozzie as they traveled the world. But criminal behaviour did not serve him well anymore. He’d found something he wanted even more than the rush of the con and he was reminded of that very fact every time he looked into his daughter’s eyes. Now that he’d discovered the life he never thought he’d have, he was prepared to do just about anything to hang on to it and keep those he loved safe from harm.

‘Good job!’ Peter said as he joined Neal by the prosecution table and gave him a pat on the back.

Neal looked at him, eyebrows raised. ‘It’s a fine line to walk.’

‘Well, for what it’s worth, I didn't hear anything that would qualify as perjury’ Peter said as the two men glanced over towards the defence table.

A second guard had appeared and the two uniformed men stood on either side of Ryan Wilkes, putting handcuffs on him before preparing to escort him out of the courtroom.

Neal’s eyes moved to Sara, who’d been sitting in the second row, alongside Peter. She was waiting patiently for him to make his way back and he watched with interest as Geoffrey Merton took a seat next to her and struck up a conversation.

Neal gave Peter a head nod in that direction.

‘I guess that’s our cue’ he said mysteriously as Peter nodded and let out an audible sigh.

‘You sure you’re ready for this?’ Peter retorted.

‘As I’ll ever be’ Neal admitted.

He took a few steps towards where Sara sat and motioned to her that he would be right back, giving her what turned out to be a very painful wink for good measure. Sara’s face tensed. She had a bad feeling about this; Neal was no choir boy and she was wise to his tells.

Her eyes returned to Merton who was asking her animatedly about her job as an insurance investigator and she smiled politely in response to his question about the most unusual piece of art she’d ever recovered. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn the man was trying to distract her by keeping her occupied... The truth was, she _did_ know better.

Peter and Neal slipped out of the courtroom and walked in silence towards a small corridor where the washrooms were located. They could see Wilkes a few feet ahead of them, hands shackled behind his back, with the two guards on either side of him, holding his arms. The three men stopped right in front of the men’s room and one of the guards went in, ostensibly to make certain there was no one else inside. He reemerged after a few seconds and Peter and Neal watched with interest as the guards herded Wilkes inside.

The two men gave each other a surreptitious glance and followed suit.

WCWCWC

‘More!’ Hope shouted with glee as everyone broke out in laughter.

‘All right, munchkin. I hereby declare you, totally recovered from whatever it was that was ailing you’ Mozzie said while El nodded.

‘You really like Diana’s pancakes, don't you?’ she said as she placed another flapjack on Hope’s plate and proceed to cut it into bitesize pieces.

‘Banana!’ Hope repeated and for a minute there, they all worried she was going to break into song again.

‘So, are they planning to head back home sometime today?’ Clinton asked as he tucked into his stack of pancakes with gusto.

‘It’s an eleven hour drive so there’s no way they’re getting home until at least tomorrow’ El answered wistfully. ‘But Peter says he wants to make a start as soon as they’re done questioning Neal. He and Sara are pretty banged up though, so he’ll probably have to do most of the driving.’

She glanced at her goddaughter, hoping the child hadn't picked up on what she’d just said but Hope had her tongue out as she concentrated on poking her fork into a slippery piece of pancake.

‘Testimony should be wrapping up soon’ Diana remarked as she looked at the clock.

‘They’re calling for another winter storm out their way’ Elizabeth commented. ‘I hope that doesn't slow them down too much.’

‘Well, since Jones and I are on watch, we can try to make this as much fun as possible in the meantime. We could go out and build a snowman in the backyard this afternoon’ Diana suggested, glancing out at the freshly fallen snow.

That last statement did not go unnoticed by little Miss Caffrey and she dropped her fork noisily onto her plate as she broke into what sounded like a very bad interpretation of ‘Frosty the Snowman’.

This time, everyone joined in.

WCWCWC

Wilkes stood at the urinal, glancing over his shoulder at the guards who stood by the door, keeping watch. He did his business and wriggled, managing to get his junk back in his underwear and he turned to face the guards as he waited for the humiliation of having his pants zipped up.

The door to the bathroom opened and to Wilkes’ surprise, there stood Neal and Peter, feet wide apart, looking like a couple of enforcers coming to collect their overdue protection money.

The guards glanced up at them, seemingly unperturbed, and one of them spoke directly to Peter.

‘You’ve got two minutes. We’ll be right outside’ he mumbled as he opened the door and led his partner out into the hallway.

‘What?’ Wilkes shouted, taken aback. ‘Hey, wait a minute. Where are you guys going? You didn't even zip me up!’

The door closed behind the guards and Peter turned back to engage the lock. He and Neal had both been looking forward to having some face to face time with the man who’d been terrorizing their families for the past few days. Two could play the intimidation game and the two friends weren't about to let the criminal retain the upper hand.

Wilkes tried to keep a brave face but his eyes narrowed as he realized he’d been set up, left to face his nemeses alone - his hands of no use to him and worse yet, his pants unzipped, only adding to his vulnerability.

Peter took the lead, closing the distance between himself and Wilkes, who was now plastered up against the wall by the urinals.

‘What do you... want, Burke?’ Wilkes asked, his voice defiant.

‘We didn't want to leave town without giving you a little courtesy call of our own’ Peter said menacingly. ‘Did we, Neal?’

Neal glanced over and frowned. Who _was_ that Peter was channelling? The Terminator? Any minute now, he'd be uttering threats like _‘I’ll be back!’_

Peter kept walking, now mere inches from Wilkes, standing there helplessly with his hands cuffed together behind his back.

‘You were so kind to have your guys drop in on our wives yesterday’ Neal said as he followed Peter’s lead. ‘We thought the least we could do was return the favour.’

Wilkes gave him a cocky smile despite what looked like a smidgeon of apprehension in his eyes. ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about, gentlemen’ he managed to say, testily.

‘Oh, no?’ Peter said as he got right up in his face and gave him a hard shove, sending him flying against the wall.

‘You think intimidating women and threatening to hurt innocent children is macho, Wilkes?’ Peter growled in his face. ‘What do _you_ think, Neal, do you think it’s macho?’

Neal gave a cocky smile of his own as he drew closer to Wilkes, closing in on the other side. ‘Actually, I don’t. I think it’s pretty cowardly to threaten innocent women. But that’s just like you, isn't it, Wilkes? Getting your crew to do your dirty work for you. Always afraid to get your hands dirty.’ 

Wilkes tried to remain calm but a flicker of fear appeared in his eyes.

‘You know, you might have your little crew, Wilkes’ Peter continued, breathing in his face. ‘But we have a little crew of our own, don't we Neal?’

‘We do’ Neal said with a satisfied smile.

‘You might have heard of them’ Peter sneered. ‘They’re called the FBI.’

He poised his hand to slam his fist into Wilkes’ gut but he held back somehow, preferring to maintain eye contact. Instead, his hand came up against the wall by Wilkes head, trapping him while he began waving his finger in Wilkes’ face, chastising him like a naughty two-year-old.

‘There are _thousands_ of us, all over the place, just waiting for scum like you to step out of line’ he growled.

‘If anything and I mean _anything at all_ happens to someone we care about, you’d better pray you can prove it’s not you or one of your crew’ Peter continued, barely keeping it together. ‘Because, if someone we care about gets so much as a hangnail, we are coming for you, Wilkes and we will use the full force of the law to put you away for the rest of your pathetic little life.’

Neal watched in silence, anger rising like bile in his mouth at the thought of any harm coming to Sara or Hope because of the scumbag standing in front of him.

‘Do you have anything else you’d like to say Neal?’ Peter asked, eyes still glued on Wilkes’ stunned face.

‘Can’t think of anything I want to _say_...’ Neal said as Peter stepped aside and let Neal take the spot immediately in front of Wilkes.

Neal was not much of a fighter and he refrained from putting himself in situations where he might need to call on his limited physical prowess to defend himself, preferring by far to use his silver tongue to get him out of tough situations. But the anger he felt deep in his gut at what Wilkes had done and the fear of what he might still do, spurred him on and in a swift movement, Neal’s knee came up and slammed violently into Wilkes’ groin, sending the man crumbling down to the floor in agony.

The sudden movement sent aftershocks to Neal’s abdomen, the sharp pain in his ribs reminding him of the beating he’d suffered at the hands of Wilkes’ henchmen. He winced followed immediately by a twisted smile as he watched his enemy curled up in a little ball on the floor.

Peter watched in silence. He and Neal had promised to have each other’s backs so neither one of them would get too carried away. Peter had the FBI to back him up but there were limits to the threats they could reasonably make before being accused of police brutality. He knew all too well how easy it was to lose control when someone you loved was being threatened. When Keller had kidnapped Elizabeth, he’d had difficulty controlling his urges despite the fact he’d always been a firm believer that justice trumped retribution.

Peter glanced over at Neal, spotting a look of pure loathing he hadn't often seen in his partner’s eyes followed by a look of immense satisfaction as Wilkes lay there, incapacitated. For a moment, Peter feared Neal might kick him again while he was down - so unlike the pacifist he knew him to be.

Neal fought the urge to take a second shot at Wilkes, stepping back in order to resist temptation.

‘Come on’ he heard Peter say as he felt his hand on his shoulder.  
Neal took a deep breath, reining in his emotions as he stepped away.

The last thing Wilkes heard as he cowered on the ground was Neal’s voice as the door opened and he spoke to the two guards.

‘He’s ready to be zipped up, now.’

TBC


	23. Chapter 23

The hallway outside the men’s room was eerily quiet as Peter and Neal made their way back to the courtroom. They didn't slow down until they turned the corner at which point Neal stopped dead in his tracks and bent over, hands on his knees and his breathing ragged.

Peter’s hand was instantly on his back. ‘You okay, buddy?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, yeah’ Neal responded breathlessly as he straightened up. ‘That was harder than I thought it was going to be.’

‘You two have a lot of history’ Peter remarked.

Neal shook his head and raised his eyebrows in response. ‘I can’t believe I used to work with that scumbag.’

‘I think we managed to make our point’ Peter said. ‘We can’t keep living in fear and having El and Sara looking over their shoulder.’

Neal nodded in agreement.

‘Speaking of which’ he said, pointing towards the courtroom. ‘Sara’s going to be wondering where we are.’

WCWCWC

Sara’s eyes moved from Geoffrey Merton’s face back to the door through which Peter and Neal had disappeared moments before. It was going on five minutes since they’d headed out and it was becoming increasingly obvious they were up to something they didn't want her involved in.

‘That sounds fascinating...’ Merton said with forced interest.

Sara nodded, distracted, and returned her gaze to the courtroom door.

‘What is it exactly you’re supposed to keep me from finding out’ she finally blurted out as the man’s eyes grew wide.

‘I beg your pardon?’ he responded ineffectually.

‘Look, I’ve known Neal Caffrey a long time...’ she began as the door swung open and Peter and Neal appeared, looking a little worse for wear.

She stood to greet them, trying to read their faces and Neal flashed her a grin, an obvious attempt at distraction.

‘Hey, you okay?’ he asked as he placed a kiss on her cheek.

‘Yeah, you?’ she answered, trying to read his eyes.

‘I will be. Are you ready to hit the road?’ he asked, protective arm around her waist.

Peter extended his hand to Geoffrey Merton. ‘Geoffrey, thanks for _everything_. Keep us posted’ he said as he shook the man’s hand.

‘Will do’ Merton responded. ‘Be careful driving home, it’s really coming down out there.’

WCWCWC

By 1:30, the trio had grabbed a quick bite to eat and had settled into the car for the long drive back to New York City. Sara was definitely on the mend but was still suffering from a stubbornly sore throat and hence, was in need of a nap. Neal was still nursing some very sore ribs and he’d awakened that morning with a sore throat, information he’d thus far managed to keep from his travelling companions. He and Sara settled in the back seat of the car while Peter took the wheel for the first shift.

Snow was coming down at a good clip and they were calling for another foot of the white stuff before nightfall, causing traffic to slow down even the major highways. Peter spent the first two hours with just the radio for company as the Caffreys snoozed, huddled together under a blanket in the back seat of the Taurus. He couldn't wait to get home but even he had to admit it was a stretch to contemplate driving straight through. What would normally be an eleven hour drive could easily turn into double that during a storm such as this and there was no sense putting their lives and those of others at risk.

He glanced in the rearview mirror, noticing Neal stirring and pulling away from Sara.

‘What time is it?’ he asked, groggy.

‘4:30 and we’re not making much headway’ Peter announced. ‘I think we should start looking for somewhere to stop for the night... maybe somewhere around Cleveland.’

Neal swallowed, feeling the unwelcome sensation of sandpaper in his throat. ’Do you want me to take over for a while?’ he asked, his voice raspy.

‘I’m good for now. Why don’t you find out where we can stop for the night. Visibility is getting really bad and it’s going to get dark before too long.’

Neal pulled his hand away from Sara’s hair which he’d been caressing as she curled up, her head on his lap.

‘What’s going on?’ she mumbled, briefly coming to.

‘It’s okay, honey. Go back to sleep. We’re just going to start looking for a place to stop for the night.’ he croaked, grabbing for his phone.

He waited for her to settle back down and looked up at the rearview mirror noticing the intensity in Peter’s eyes as he concentrated on the snowy road up ahead.

‘Peter...’ he whispered. ‘I know we’ve got enough on our plate but... I think I might have caught Hope’s strep throat.’

Peter let out a loud sigh of dismay. Trying to find a clinic or an emergency room in uncharted territory would be yet another hurdle in what seemed like their interminable trek home.

WCWCWC

It turned out that building a snowman was more fun than Elizabeth Burke remembered. Even Mozzie got in on the act and took out an extra pair of glasses from his coat pocket and placed them on the snowman’s carrot nose as Hope giggled loudly.

Mozzie had agreed to stay another night and Jones provided an escort for El out to Manhattan for her event while Diana stayed behind and kept an eye on the Caffrey house.

Peter had called to talk to his subordinates and although he was reasonably sure Wilkes had gotten the message loud and clear, he’d asked his two top agents to provide surveillance until they got back to town, something they were both more than happy to do.

El enjoyed her evening, barking orders at her underlings and overseeing the major charity event she’d been working on for the better part of two months. She was pleased to see that her staff had things well in hand, despite her sporadic availability over the past few days.

By midnight, she was back in White Plains, with dreams of Peter Burke’s homecoming dancing in her head.

WCWCWC

Peter had spotted a turnoff for a small country clinic and by 6:00, Neal had taken his first dose of antibiotics and was curled up in the back seat of the car, his head in the crook of Sara’s neck while he slept fitfully.

Thus far, they had exhausted every single possibility for refuge for the night and Peter was beginning to worry he might have to spend the night in the car with two very sick Caffreys in the back seat.

The snowfall had turned into a veritable blizzard with blowing snow making it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead and Peter had just about given up when he saw the turnoff for Akron, Ohio. He suddenly flashed to his old friend and mentor from Quantico who had settled down in these parts after taking early retirement from the Bureau. Peter and El had been invited to their home one late summer about five years earlier for a corn roast.

‘Sara’ he said, passing his phone to her over his shoulder. ‘Do you want to see if you can find a number for Ken Murphy?’

‘Who is he?’ she asked as she began to scroll.

‘At this rate, he just might be our guardian angel’ Peter answered.

WCWCWC

‘Follow me up to the house’ the man shouted at Peter from the open window of his pickup truck.

Once Ken Murphy had heard about his old friend Peter Burke’s predicament, he’d insisted the trio of travellers come stay with them and wait out the snow storm with a home cooked meal and a warm bed.

The driveway up to the Murphy ranch was longer than two city blocks and Peter followed the truck slowly, relieved his old friend had come out to the main road to meet them. Neal and Sara watched, eyes wide, as snow swirled unrelentingly, blinding them to everything around them.

‘This is really nice of your friend, Peter’ Neal said, his voice rough.

‘Ken’s a great guy and his wife, Ginette - she’s a wonderful woman and an amazing cook. She’s French Canadian and Ken met her at a conference we were at in Montreal over twenty years ago’ Peter explained.

‘El and I visited them once up here... but I never would have been able to find the place by myself.’

The brake lights came on the truck ahead of them and Peter parked alongside, the house now just barely visible to their left.

‘Come on!’ the man said as he grabbed their suitcases and led them to the back door. ‘Ginette’s got dinner on for us.’

WCWCWC

As it turned out, dinner consisted of a feast of French Canadian delicacies including hot, fragrant pea soup with bacon, homemade tourtière and ratatouille and a hot from the oven maple sugar pie which filled the house with its wonderful aromas.

‘It’s our pleasure’ the woman said, her accent still thick despite her many years stateside. ‘We don’t get many guests, do we _mon amour,_ especially at this time of year.’

Everyone sat back from the table, hands on their bellies. Neal was surprised at how much Sara had managed to put away - a sure sign she was on the mend and for his part, he’d eaten with unexpected gusto despite the nagging sore throat.

Sara yawned and brought her hand to her mouth self-consciously. ‘Sorry, I guess all this great food has made me even more tired...’

‘Would you like to take a nice warm bath?’ the woman asked.

Sara’s face lit up at the sound of the words ‘nice’ ‘warm’ and ‘bath’ strung together in a sentence.

‘Come on, I’ll show you where your room is’ she said, taking Sara’s arm.

Neal gave his wife a gentle smile, sending her on her way and he followed his host and Peter into the adjoining room, complete with a bay window, a roaring fire and a box of cigars laid out on the coffee table next to a bottle of fine scotch.

‘We call this the great room’ Ken said as he poured them all a tumbler of scotch.

All the seating in the room was laid out to give an unobstructed view of the outdoors although at this hour with the snow still falling, the view was blurry. Ken walked over to turn off the lights and suddenly, a veritable winter wonderland appeared before their eyes, the room lit by nothing more than the crackling fire.

‘Wow!’ Neal said, suddenly wishing he had an easel nearby. ‘That’s an incredible view.’

He settled on one of the dark leather chairs and propped his feet on the nearby footrest as he took a sip of the warm liquid. It felt amazing on his raw throat and he let out a sigh of satisfaction as he watched Peter and Ken settle into identical wing chairs with their cigars.

‘No, thanks’ Neal said when Ken offered him one. ‘I’m nursing a sore throat.’

There was something about the gorgeous scenery that begged for silence and the three men sat in admiration for a few moments, captured by the beauty of nature as it covered endless fields with a coat of immaculate snow.

‘It’s so peaceful out here’ Peter commented after a few seconds of blissful quiet.

‘Ginette and I love it’ Ken Murphy said as he took a sip from his drink.

‘At first, I thought she was nuts, thought I’d go crazy out here with just a bunch of horses and land as far as the eye can see. But... it’s beautiful, from warm summer nights to cozy winter evenings by the fire and everything in between.’

Neal was fighting just to stay awake, curled up in a leather chair, lulled by the heat emanating from the fireplace and a belly full of great food.

‘You still enjoying your job?’ Ken asked Peter.

Neal was surprised at how long it took Peter to respond. He knew his friend well and saw how he thrived on the excitement of his work with the FBI, how he loved outsmarting the smart ones and bringing down the violent ones like Ryan Wilkes.

‘Yeah, I do’ Peter finally said. ‘But I have to admit you make a great case for retirement away from the hustle and bustle of the big city.’

‘It’s a life choice’ Ken admitted. ‘You have to be willing to give up the allure of the big city for some serious peace and quiet.’

‘I bet you sleep like a baby out here’ Neal commented, thinking ahead to the moment when his weary head would finally hit the pillow.

‘It’s a kind of quiet that’s different from anything I’ve ever known’ the older man admitted. ‘And Ginette and I spend every waking moment together so you have to be with someone you're a hundred percent in tune with...’

As if on cue, his wife walked into the room and, without a word, she made her way over to the cedar chest that lay at Ken’s feet, opening it and taking out a couple of sets of sheets and a bunch of towels. She turned to face her husband and Neal noticed how the man reached for her hand and squeezed it lovingly. The gesture was so discreet that, if he hadn’t been looking directly at them, he wouldn't have noticed and a smile came to his lips as he thought ahead to a life with Sara as they entered their fifties and God forbid, their sixties - somewhere very far into the future.

His mind wandered to the years to come. Hope would grow up, become a teenager and eventually a young woman. What would she look like? Would she always have that spunk, that great sense of humour? What about that thick, wavy hair and those bright blue eyes? What would she choose to do with her life? Eventually, she might fall in love, maybe even have a family of her own.

He replayed the conversation he and Sara had had at the cottage they’d rented the previous summer as she prepared for surgery and they contemplated their future. Would there be brothers and sisters for Hope? Now that they had a child, Neal realized he wanted a dozen more and he knew Sara was hoping they would add one or two more babies to their family before they were done. For now though, their lives were in limbo as Sara’s withered body recuperated from surgery and chemotherapy but as soon as Dr. Franklin gave them the green light, they were planning to try for a second baby - and pray that luck would be on their side.

Neal let out an audible sigh - half contentment at the well-being of sitting there by the fire and half uncertainty at what the future held for them.

‘I could do _this_ ’ Peter said, surprising Neal once again. ‘I don't know about El, she likes the arts, theatre, life in the big city.’ 

‘We have art’ Ken declared with a soft laugh. ‘Maggie Duncan down the road has an exhibition of cow pics every summer at the local fair and the Cuyahoga theatre troupe is planning a production of ‘A Streetcar named Desire’ in May.’

‘Sounds like a ‘must see’ Neal responded with an amused smile.

It had been a week of craziness and yet, in this gorgeous setting, all his troubles seemed to melt away.

WCWCWC

Ginette Murphy gave a soft knock and opened the guest room door to find Sara Ellis, sitting at the small makeup table about to remove her wig and put on her night cap.

‘I brought you some fresh sheets and towels’ she declared as she placed everything on the bed and perched on the edge, right by Sara. ‘How was your bath?’

‘Amazing!’ Sara responded with a smile. ‘That claw foot tub... I wish we had room for something like that at our house. And the view... who knew you could have a big picture window and look out at nature while you soaked in the bathtub.’

‘You might get the occasional deer or racoon peeking in’ Ginette said with a kind smile. ‘But otherwise, you’re pretty safe.’

There was an awkward silence before Ginette spoke again. ‘So, how long has it been since you finished chemo?’

Sara turned to face the woman, her jaw dropping. ‘How did you know?’ she asked.

‘Little things... it’s a beautiful wig but...’

Sara let out a small laugh. ‘Oh, no. Is it that obvious?’

‘Only because I wore one almost identical to it for the better part of a year’ Ginette admitted, to Sara’s surprise.

‘You’re a cancer survivor?’

‘Twelve years cancer free’ she said with pride.

Sara’s face softened; if anything, her adventure in ‘cancerland' had introduced her to so many strong, resilient women and here she was, unexpectedly meeting one such amazing woman out in the boonies when she least expected it.

‘We were living our lives in Chicago, both of us working too hard and not enjoying it nearly enough when I was diagnosed with cervical cancer. Knocked the wind right out of me... And Ken, he was a wreck.’

Sara stood and took a spot next to Ginette on the bed, mesmerized by what the woman was saying.

‘That was kind of the beginning for Ken and me... when we started to think there had to be more to life than running from one meeting to the next and seeing each other on the fly.’

She waited a moment, uncertain if Sara was in a sharing mood - which as it turned out, she was.

‘We were trying for a second baby and I ended up in the doctor’s office asking for advice on getting pregnant. Instead, I got a cancer diagnosis’ she said wistfully. ‘Ovarian... I had to have my left ovary removed and I... lost the baby I was carrying at the time.’

The woman reached out for Sara’s hand and squeezed. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Sara swallowed; it still hurt to think about the baby they’d lost. It might have been their last chance and she would always wonder about what might have been. She felt a lump in her throat but continued nonetheless.

‘Neal and I are hoping we can try again... when this is all over’ she said as she removed her wig and set it beside her on the bed, all modesty suddenly gone.

‘Ken and I were never blessed with kids’ Ginette admitted, a tinge of sadness in her voice. ‘You make the best of the cards life deals you.’

Sara nodded, tears forming in her eyes.

‘But you have to believe that life will give you what you need, even when you don’t know what that is’ the wise woman confided.

In an uncharacteristic élan, Sara’s arms came up to wrap around the older woman who reciprocated with a long, warm hug.

Unbeknownst to the two women, Neal stood just outside the doorway to the bedroom, listening intently and fighting the tears that were threatening to form in his eyes.

TBC


	24. Chapter 24

Neal stood motionless, right outside the bedroom door, listening in on the conversation between the two women. Typically, Sara didn't open up very easily - especially to strangers - and she had the annoying habit of withholding information from him if she thought it might upset him in any way. This seemed like one way, albeit a sneaky one, to find out what was on her mind.

He’d been surprised at the eagerness with which Sara had embraced the idea of having more children. Mere weeks after Hope’s birth, Neal had floated the idea during their first date night, post-baby. Peter and Elizabeth had offered to take Hope for the night and the Caffreys had headed out to Manhattan for dinner and dancing at the Ritz. They’d ended up staying the night and Neal had broached the subject as they’d soaked in their hotel room hot tub, enjoying peace and quiet after their first few hectic weeks of parenting. He’d been surprised to find that, despite the fact Sara was still recovering from twelve intense hours of labor, she was open to the idea of adding more babies to their little family. Having Hope in their lives had turned both their worlds upside down and Neal had allowed himself to imagine a house full of little Ellis-Caffrey people of various sizes he could chase around.

By the time Hope was a year old, they’d begun to try in earnest and it had been heartbreaking for both of them to find out Sara was pregnant just days before she was scheduled for cancer surgery. It had hit Neal hard and hearing Sara sharing her own heartbreak brought back the painful memories.

He cleared his throat and stepped into the guest room and Ginette Murphy was instantly on her feet.

‘Well, you two must be exhausted from your long drive’ she said. ‘I’ll leave you alone so you can get some rest. Remember, we’re just two doors down if you need anything.’

Sara stood to bid her host goodnight. ‘Thanks Ginette... for everything.’

‘My pleasure’ the older woman replied. ‘And let me know what time you want to have breakfast. We want to send you off with a full stomach in the morning.’

Neal waved her off and glanced around the spacious room, with its four poster bed and matching Louis XIV armchairs positioned to look out over the endless fields of snow through a large plate glass window. There was a small sitting area off to one side with a love seat and a coffee table as well as a small television set and Neal could see a small ensuite through an open door - this was definitely the main guest room.

‘Wow! This place is amazing!’ he enthused as he let himself fall onto the bed. ‘Better than most of the hotels I’ve stayed in.’

‘Better than the Palazzo Sasso?’ Sara teased, recalling Neal’s fascination with the high end hotel.

‘A little less formal but... a lot more charm’ Neal admitted, slipping off his shoes and socks.

He watched as Sara rifled through her purse, searching for what was turning out to be quite an impressive collection of prescription medications: pain meds for Neal, antihistamines to help him breathe and his and hers matching antibiotics. She rattled the pill bottles in front of Neal’s face and he chuckled at the sight.

‘You could probably open your own drugstore with all those drugs’ he murmured, feeling his body start to relax.

‘Time for your medication, Mr. Caffrey’ Sara reminded him, sliding onto the bed next to him.

Her eyes were droopy, as were his and if she hadn't given him a gentle prod to get up so he could get undressed, he might have just fallen asleep with his clothes on, right there on top of the luxuriously soft duvet.

‘Up!’ she coaxed, giving him a gentle tap on the bum and rolling off the other side of the bed.

She poured them each a glass of water from the pitcher which sat on the bedside table and Neal reluctantly got to his feet, climbing out of his clothes and into the sleep pants he found in the bottom of his overnight bag. Sara studied him and despite the dim lighting, she could see the bruises down his left side, now a dark, brooding shade of blue - a reminder of the beating he’d taken at the hands of Ryan Wilkes and his band of merry men.

‘Oh Neal!’ she gasped at the jarring sight.

He gave her a shrug and a smile in the hopes of dispelling her concerns. ‘It looks worse than it feels - really’ he attempted, rather unconvincingly.

He watched as her face crumpled, disbelieving, and he made his way over to the other side of the bed, bringing his hands up to rest on her arms.

‘Honey, stop worrying. I’m fine’ he repeated, his voice raw.

‘No, you’re not - but I love you for lying’ she answered, running her hand through his thick head of hair.

She studied his face, noting that the bruising around his nose was finally beginning to fade and the swelling was all but gone. Her lips went first to his eyelids then to his cheeks and finally settled on his mouth, depositing a trail of warm, soft kisses as she went.

‘There... See? I feel better already’ he murmured in response to the sweet gesture.

He reciprocated by placing his thumb against the bruise on the left side of her face and caressing it gently as Sara smiled back at him fondly. His eyes locked on hers and she took advantage of the fact that his guard was down to ask him what had been on her mind all day.

‘So, are you finally going to ‘fess up and tell me what you and Peter were up to when you left me alone with your decoy?’

‘Decoy?’ Neal answered innocently.

‘Please! That poor man didn't know the difference between a Picasso and a Rodin and you expect me to believe he was interested in the intricacies of art recovery and restoration?’

Neal chuckled. Merton had surely done his best to keep her occupied while he and Peter spent some quality time in the men’s room with Wilkes. He pulled Sara closer to him and let his hands wander up and down her back, trying to mitigate the reaction he was almost certain would follow his admission.

‘We paid Wilkes a little visit’ he admitted, his voice low.

‘What? Neal! Are you crazy? After what his goons did to you?’ she exclaimed.

‘And to you’ he added, without missing a beat.

‘Which is exactly the point. Do you want us to be looking over our shoulder and worrying about our safety for the rest or our lives.’

Sara pulled away from him, not in the mood to be mollified. ‘But...’

‘But nothing. Peter just reminded him that we have the full force of the law behind us and that he’ll hunt him down ’til kingdom come if he ever threatens to hurt you or El again.’

Sara looked at him, unsure. ‘And that’s it? That’s all that happened?’

‘And that’s pretty well it’ he retorted with just the slightest hesitation.

Sara was wise to his misdirections. ‘ _Pretty well_ it?’ she repeated.

Neal let his eyes wander away from hers as he spoke. ‘I might have... taken advantage of a moment of vulnerability on his part to...’

He made a motion with his knee and winced at the tightness in his chest brought on by the sudden movement.

‘You’re kidding?’ Sara said, smiling despite herself. ‘You... you kneed him in the groin?’

Neal shrugged, self deprecatingly and gave his eyebrows a waggle, head cocked to one side, looking younger than his years.

‘Caffrey...’ Sara mewled as her hands returned to his hair. ‘You are _so_ badass.’

WCWCWC

Despite the late hour, Peter and Ken sat in the great room, reminiscing about happy times at Quantico - a time in their lives when things had seemed a lot simpler.

‘And then there was that time you and Battersby went AWOL for twenty-four hours’ Ken recalled with a chuckle.

‘It was a wonder we weren't _both_ booted out of the Academy’ Peter said, shaking his head in disbelief.

‘Well, you had an immaculate record. Battersby, on the other hand... well, he’d always been a bad influence on you.’

‘Still, you could have had me kicked out for insubordination...’ Peter conceded.

‘I knew, even then, that you had all the makings of an outstanding agent, Peter Burke. You had integrity, an analytic mind, you were loyal and committed to the Bureau... and you showed good judgement - most of the time.’

Peter took a sip of scotch and brought the stogie to his lips, inhaling deeply. The day, which had begun with uncertainty, was ending on an unexpected high note and he was thankful for this opportunity to catch up with his old friend and mentor.

‘Ken, I really appreciate you putting us up like this’ Peter said. ‘It’s been a rough couple of days. We were in Lansing testifying on a case and Neal was mugged at our hotel’ he explained, sketchy on details.

‘Ah, I didn't want to be indelicate. So that’s what happened to your friend’s face’ Ken concluded.

Peter nodded, thinking better of it. ‘Actually, the guy who was on trial ordered the attack on him... and just to keep us on our toes, he sent some of his goons to try to intimidate both Elizabeth and Sara.’

‘Sounds like a nasty piece of work’ Ken commented.

‘And then, Sara got so worried about Neal that she flew up to Lansing to be with him...but she’s been really sick too.’

Ken put up his hand, letting Peter know that details weren't necessary. Whatever the circumstances, he was more than happy to be of service.

‘I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough week. But I’m grateful for the blizzard. If it hadn't been for the bad weather, we wouldn't have had the chance to catch up. You know, I’ve been wanting to get in touch with you for months. I couldn’t have been happier when I heard your voice on the phone earlier.’

Peter finished the last few drops of his drink and placed the empty glass on the coffee table as he stood to stretch. ‘I think I’d better hit the sack if I want to get us home safely in the morning. And I think El would appreciate a call before I turn in.’

‘Have a good night, Peter. We’ll see you in the morning’ the man said just as Ginette reappeared in the doorway to the room.

‘G’night’ she said to Peter, making her way to her husband and sliding onto his lap.

‘Fatigué chéri?’ she murmured as he gave her a warm smile.

‘Not _that_ tired’ he said as his lips teased her neck.

WCWCWC

El sounded a lot more relaxed than earlier in the week when she and Peter finally connected. For one thing, her stint as child care provider was coming to an end, she’d finally put her charity event to bed and to top it off, Peter would be home before sundown the next day and she would finally get to sleep in her own bed with her hubby by her side.

She listened as Peter related the events of the day, how the snow had kept them from making it all the way home and how he and the Caffreys were staying with Ken and Ginette Murphy near Cuyahoga Falls. By the time he bid her goodnight, Peter was having difficulty keeping his eyes open and he slipped seamlessly into a deep, dreamless sleep.

WCWCWC

It was partly due to the loud snoring - but it was more than that. Sara had slept for a while but she’d awakened in a sweat with Neal curled up against her, still warm with fever and rumbling in her ear and she hadn't been able to get back to sleep ever since. 

She slipped out of bed and made her way to stand in front of the large picture window, staring out at the endless fields of pristine snow - a sight which was a rarity in New York City. The wind had died down but the snow continued to fall softly, big fluffy flakes drifting down without the benefit of the blustery wind to blow them around. The clouds had parted to reveal a full moon and Sara could see another farmhouse far off in the distance.

Her talk with Ginette had rekindled all those persistent and disquieting fears about the future. She was scheduled to see the specialist the following week and she hoped against hope that the swollen lymph nodes had simply been a precursor to her nasty infection and nothing more.

She glanced at Neal, spread out on the bed, blissfully oblivious to her musings and she was once again blown away by her overwhelming love and devotion for him. The conniving conman she’d first laid eyes on in a courtroom all those years ago had evolved into an amazing husband and a fantastic father. The metamorphosis had been gradual yet complete and it had been triggered by a most unexpected turn of events: her unplanned pregnancy.

In contrast to her initial apprehension when she’d gotten pregnant with Hope, Sara now realized she wanted another baby more than she could ever have imagined - and Neal, even more so.

What did the future hold for them? Would Hope end up being an only child? She tried to imagine a houseful of kids, Neal delighting in the wonderful sights and sounds of a busy household - as she knew he would if they were lucky enough to have more children. She ran her hand languidly down her stomach, feeling the long scar that stretched from her navel all the way down to her pubic bone and she let out a muffled sob.

‘Sara?’ Neal’s quiet voice drifted across the room. ‘What’s the matter?’

He got to his feet and he moved nimbly in her direction, settling in behind her, both of them facing the window with its startlingly beautiful view at their feet. He reached around, resting his hands on top of hers as she continued to trace the scar, a permanent reminder of the mutilation she’d suffered - and the lifelong consequences it represented.

‘What’s wrong baby?’ he asked earnestly, placing a tender kiss on her shoulder.

‘Neal, I want to have another baby’ she blurted out, her voice choked.

‘I know honey’ he whispered. ‘So do I.’

They stood in silence for a moment, holding each other tight and staring out at the majestic beauty of the winter scene before them, not a sound to be heard from inside the quiet house.

He felt her quiver under his touch.

‘We’ve got our beautiful little girl’ he added softly in her ear. ‘And if it’s meant to be, we’ll have another baby but you can’t torture yourself like this.’

He felt her nod against him and his eyes were drawn to a sudden movement in the snow, just off to the side.

‘Oh my God!’ he gasped as Sara’s eyes followed his gaze.

A few feet from them, in plain view, stood a deer standing regally with two young fawns, one on either side of her. The babies were dwarfed by her majestic stature, their tiny legs hidden from sight, their freckled bellies rubbing up against the freshly fallen blanket of snow as they struggled to keep pace with their mom.

The fawn stopped, under the moonlight and looked directly at Neal and Sara, dauntless, her gorgeous big brown eyes glistening under the full moon.

The couple stood mesmerized at the sight and watched in awe as the babies leaned in towards their mother, seemingly seeking her protection. She took a few tentative steps, continuing on her journey, unperturbed by Neal and Sara’s intense gaze which remained glued to the magnificent sight.

They stood in silence, afraid that even their breathing might disrupt the amazing spectacle before their eyes.

‘That’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen’ Sara finally managed to murmur as mother and babies continued on their way.

Neal leaned in to whisper in her ear. ‘A mom with her two babies... I say we take that as an omen.’

TBC


	25. Chapter 25

Neal woke to a veritable assault on his senses, some pleasant, others not so much. The first thing he was aware of was the all-too familiar sound of a snowplough punctuated by a loud and annoying beep and the painfully bright sunshine as it hit the glistening snow right outside the bedroom window. He brought one arm up to cover his face and reached for Sara, disappointed to find the bed empty and he swallowed, moaning in pain at the rawness in his throat and the pounding in his head. His mouth tasted of mothballs and other foul indiscernible things and his muddled mind began to clue in to the wonderful aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the amazing smell of cinnamon wafting through the house.

He sat up, forcing his eyes open as he got his bearings. He’d had a hard time getting back to sleep after waking to find Sara standing by the window, looking out at the falling snow. She’d confessed to having had another nightmare and he’d held her in his arms until he’d heard her drift off sometime just before dawn only to find himself tossing and turning before finally letting sleep claim him just as the sun came up.

His feet hit the cool floor and he fought the urge to fall back onto the comfortable mattress, forcing himself to get up and moving. They would be going home today and he couldn't wait to see Hope’s little face and finally get back to living their lives. He made his way into the ensuite and straight into the shower, moaning in pleasure this time, as the hot soothing jets from the rain shower head hit his aching body. He stretched, grunting at the pain flaring in his side and he let the hot water wash over him, lulling him into a blissful state of semi-consciousness.

Home... home.

WCWCWC

‘I heard you during the night’ Ginette said as she and Sara sat in the large kitchen sharing a cup of coffee.

Sara smiled, embarrassed. ‘Yeah, well, Neal’s been snoring really loudly since he broke his nose and the truth is, I’ve been having nightmares lately...’

Ginette Murphy studied her carefully. She herself, had been through a rough year following her cancer treatments and she could sense that all was not well with the young woman sitting across from her.

‘I went through a horrible time for a year after my treatments’ Ginette confessed. ‘When it was all over, I expected to feel relieved and I thought my life would go back to normal but it wasn't like that. My hair grew back in, all grey and coarse, there were endless follow-up appointments, I kept worrying the cancer would return and... I was grieving for my sister.’

Sara looked up, intrigued. It was difficult to imagine that this woman, who looked so calm and poised, had struggled with the aftermath of the horrible disease.

‘Halfway through my chemo treatments, my younger sister was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. At first, it brought us closer together... sharing the fears and the uncertainty and facing all those medical decisions. But the disease got a firm hold of her and while I was being given a good prognosis, she began to go downhill faster than any of us could have imagined.’

The sound of a shower coming on could be heard in the distance and Sara leaned in to listen to Ginette’s story.

‘I was filled with guilt. Manon lives in Blainville, near Montréal’ she said, her French Canadian accent peeking through. ‘And I was here, struggling with all the side effects from the treatments... I visited as much as I could but...’

Sara could see tears forming in the woman’s eyes as she recalled the painful memories and her hand moved to cover hers.

‘It happened so fast’ Ginette said, her voice faraway. ‘She died within three months and I just couldn't accept that I had been given a chance to live while she... It wasn't fair, she had three young children and a full life...’

‘I’m so sorry’ Sara said, squeezing the woman’s hand.

Ginette seemed to come out of her trance and she swatted a tear that had escaped down her cheek. ‘It was a long time ago and I got some help to deal with the guilt’ she admitted as Sara thought of Janet. ‘Now, I try to focus on the happy times we had, all those years of sharing our lives together. There is just no explanation for why things happen the way they do...’

Peter appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, showered and dressed and ready to tackle the day. ’I thought I’d follow the wonderful aromas’ he said, rubbing his hands together.

‘Ken’s just outside getting the driveway ploughed for you’ Ginette said, rising to fetch Peter a cup of coffee.

And just like that, the moment had passed, and Sara was left with a lot to think about.

WCWCWC

By ten o’clock, they were on the road again with Peter at the wheel. Neal had taken some pain medication and was unfit to drive but he eagerly took on the role of co-pilot, navigating them to the I-80 towards home. The hot shower and hearty breakfast had helped settle him and he and Peter sat in the front seat bantering while Sara settled in the back, trying to read her book yet distracted by the back and forth between the two men. There were the usual barbs about which one of them had better spatial visualization, some lively argument about the best short-cut to the highway and a brief rehash of their short encounter with Wilkes. Sara listened in silence and smiled, enjoying the show.

They stopped for a late lunch and Neal began to lose steam, the aches and pains catching up with him once again. He curled up in the backseat, snuggled up against his wife, his arms tightly wound around her waist, his head in the crook of her neck and he proceeded to fall asleep, snoring loudly in her ear.

‘He’s like a big teddy bear’ Peter teased from the front of the car.

‘Or a leech’ Sara joked, running her hand through Neal’s hair.

He purred, his arms tightening around her and she pulled him closer, placing a kiss on the top of his head. ‘Well, he’s been through an awful lot the last few days. I’m glad he’s getting some rest.’

Peter’s mind wandered to thoughts of El, waiting back home for him and he let out an audible sigh.

‘How about you let me drive for a couple of hours and you can take a break’ Sara offered.

‘And disturb Rip Van Winkle?’ Peter teased.

‘He’ll survive’ she answered as Peter pulled over to the side of the road.

They switched places, Neal muttering at the loss of physical contact and letting his head fall onto the back of the seat, dead to the world.

‘Careful’ Sara warned with a grin as she settled in the front seat and fastened her seat belt. ‘When he gets like this, he can be pretty ‘handsy’.

The words had barely left her lips when Neal turned towards Peter, reaching out for him and bringing his arms around his waist as he cuddled up to him.

‘Babe...’ he moaned under his breath as Peter chuckled.

WCWCWC

El watched out of the corner of her eye as Hope got up on the little stool by the kitchen island and grabbed for the fish food, preparing to dump the whole thing in the small fish bowl that sat nearby.

‘Whoa, whoa’ she called out as she momentarily stopped stirring the spaghetti sauce she’d been working on. ‘Just a little bit, honey!’

Hope looked up, eyes wide. If a little bit of food was good, surely a whole lot was better.

‘Here, give me your hand and I’ll put some in for you to feed them’ Elizabeth suggested as Hope pouted.

She watched the child drop the flakes into the bowl and bring her face to look at the two goldfish swimming around in circles.

‘El-mer, Oris, dinner’ she whispered as El chuckled.

‘You want to help me set the table?’ she asked as Hope’s eyes moved to look at her godmother.

‘Momma?’ Hope asked for the tenth time.

‘Yes, Mommy and Daddy are going to be home _really_ soon. They’ll be so glad to see you.’

‘Poppa! Momma!’ Hope shrieked as she hopped down from her stool and began to do a happy dance.

Elizabeth looked fondly at the child; as difficult as the last week had been, she was going to miss not spending every waking hour with her. She was pure joy from the top of her curly head to the tip of her dancing toes and El had enjoyed spending time with her. She thought of Peter who would be coming through that door before long and she giggled out loud, doing her own internal happy dance.

WCWCWC

The reunion was even better than imagined - for all parties involved. When the weary travellers stepped through the door at just past 7:30 on Saturday evening, there were squeals of joy all around. Neal held his daughter on his lap all through dinner despite the persistent pain in his side and Peter sat next to his wife, his hand constantly moving to take hers as they all enjoyed a home-cooked meal for the first time in almost a week.

Hope fell asleep just before dessert and Sara coaxed Neal to finally let her go, placing her on the couch in the family room where they could keep an eye on her. The Burkes were on their way shortly after 9:00, eager to get back to Satchmo and to a good night’s sleep in their very own bed.

Sara and Neal tidied up and Sara insisted on carrying Hope up to bed while Neal hovered nearby, trying to convince his wife to let their daughter spend the night in their bed alongside them.

‘You want her kicking you in the ribs all night?’ Sara asked as she deposited the toddler in her own bed.

They stood by her bedside, watching her sleep for a good five minutes before moving down the hall to their own room where Neal fell into bed, exhausted, and gladly let Sara strip him of his clothes. He was totally done in from the events of the week, the physical repercussions of his injuries, the emotional game of cat and mouse he’d played with Wilkes and the strep infection which had finally caught up with him. Sara was in marginally better shape, the antibiotics prescribed in the ER having had time to counter the persistent infection. She tucked her husband in, just as he’d done for her earlier in the week and placed a kiss on his forehead watching him immediately drift off into la-la land.

Sara was relieved that she and El had made peace, following Sara’s ill-advised escape from home on Wednesday night. Elizabeth grudgingly admitted she would have done the same if their roles had been reversed and the two friends had hugged warmly as the Burkes departed for Brooklyn.

There were still some issues ahead for the Caffreys and Sara lay in bed next to a comatose Neal, thinking about her appointment with the cancer specialist on the following Tuesday and his upcoming appointment to discuss treatment for his deviated septum. She’d also made up her mind to speak to Dr. Franklin about recommending someone she could talk to about dealing with the persistent nightmares.

But regardless of what lay ahead, they were home... and they were safe. For the moment, that was all that really mattered.

WCWCWC

‘You okay?’ Elizabeth asked as Peter coughed once again and moved on the bed.

Their homecoming had included lots of kissing and hugging and cuddling which had culminated in the only logical way for a loving couple who’d just spent the better part of a week apart. But instead of turning over and immediately falling asleep - his usual MO after lovemaking - Peter was tossing and turning... and coughing.

‘My throat tickles’ he complained, coughing louder.

‘I didn’t want to say anything... but so does mine’ Elizabeth admitted as she curled up against his side.

‘Do you think...’ he began, shaking his head in desperation. 

‘It would be a miracle if we _didn’t_ catch it’ El answered wisely.

‘Great!’ Peter groaned.

‘Oh, honey! I don’t care’ Elizabeth said, voice rough. ‘I’d rather be sick with you than with anybody else!’

Peter groaned and pulled her in closer.

WCWCWC

By Sunday afternoon, the news from Brooklyn was that both Peter and Elizabeth had been hit hard with the strep infection they’d both been trying so hard to avoid.

Neal stood over the kitchen stove stirring something that smelled amazing when Sara appeared carrying some wrapping paper and ribbon.

‘Mmmm’ Sara said as she moved in behind him and took a whiff of the sauce he was stirring.

‘It’s Bercy sauce... for the scallops’ he explained, stealing a kiss as she pulled away.

‘She’s going to love it’ Sara enthused. ‘What about Peter?’

‘I got a ribeye for him’ Neal responded with a grin.

‘You know it doesn't seem right that they’ve both been hit with this infection’ Sara mused as she sat at the kitchen table and began wrapping the gift she’d just picked up for Elizabeth.

‘Yeah... especially now that _we’re_ feeling better’ Neal agreed.

‘Well, the least we can do is go over there and take care of things while they rest’ Sara said. ‘I hope El likes this gift certificate I got her for a day at the spa - she’s been amazing through all this!’

Hope came running in from the family room, carrying a book in her hands and gunning for Neal who had just enough time to brace himself before the inevitable impact.

‘What’s that you’ve got there, sweet pea?’ he asked.

‘Book, poppa, book!’ she squealed, handing it over to her dad.

Neal placed the wooden spoon in Sara’s hand and she frowned in response.

‘Duty calls’ he said with a goofy grin.

**La fin**


End file.
